


Kim Shimmers and the Deathly Hallows

by KFrancesAuthorExtraordinaire



Series: The Kim Shimmers Series [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Care of Magical Creatures, Coming of Age, Death, Department of Mysteries, Divination, F/M, Harry Potter is a Horcrux, Hogwarts Inter-House Friendships, Hogwarts Inter-House Relationships, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Horcruxes, Long-Term Relationship(s), Prophecy, Ravenclaw, The Deathly Hallows
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-06-21 20:52:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 39,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15566196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KFrancesAuthorExtraordinaire/pseuds/KFrancesAuthorExtraordinaire
Summary: This fanfic is the 5th installment in the Kim Shimmers series and is taking place during Harry Potter's 7th year (Deathly Hallows). Kim died at the end of the last book... But she still has to find a way to save Harry from his prescribed death necessary to destroy the horcux inside him.This fanfic is the culmination of all the small adjustments I've made to the Harry Potter universe through the previous books. It diverges the most from the original novels in that it completes the goal I set out when writing this series: to alter the ending of Harry Potter so that the Deathly Hallows played a more major and central role to the last book. This fanfic deals heavily with themes of friendship and family bonds through impossible times, death, Death, and the grey areas in between.She was like Voldemort in at least one way. They were both of the same make now. Dead, alive, the two of them were some cross between. Perhaps he had even felt it in her.





	1. Dead

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE ABOUT CONTENT: This story is taking place during the time of Harry's 7th year and contains some scenes from Deathly Hallows (though usually quite altered because they are from Kim's POV) However, in these scenes there are some instances of direct quotes used for character dialogue. I did this when Kim's actions wouldn't reasonably change the other characters' dialogue, but she would need to be present for something that was said. I did this to maintain the feelings that the characters ARE JK's character's in how they speak and act, and I kind of hope readers will even notice the quotes, if they're a super avid HP fan ;)  
> Furthermore, none of this content could in any way exist without the majestic JK Rowling, trumpets sound in the distance, drum rolls, we all applaud

Chapter 1

Dead

She couldn’t be certain when, but at some point, Kim ended up in a green, lush field speckled with trees. She couldn’t be certain of anything, really, nor did she try to be. She simply stood in the field, taking in the expanse around her without truly seeing it. She didn’t feel the wind on her skin, though she knew it must be there. There was no smell in the air, though it should’ve been fresh and onion sweet like the smell of grass. _Is this a dream?_ the thought occurred to her.

“No,” answered a melodic voice. It sounded as though many voices had answered her at once, each one speaking softly, almost a whisper, but together forming an echoing, yet solid sound. Kim looked around, turning, trying to discern the source of the voice, though it seemed to come from all around her. As she twisted to see behind her, a beautiful girl came into view.

She was probably Kim’s age, it seemed. She had crimson hair the likes of which Kim had never seen. It was warm and rich, flowing long, wavy and wild, all the way to her hips. Her skin was golden, and her eyes were just the same, and not flecked with gold as a human’s eyes might be, but brilliantly golden from core to brim.

“Who are you?” Kim asked.

The girl smiled. “A friend. But that doesn’t matter just now.”

“Why not?” Kim asked after a moment. Her mind was working a bit slow. Perhaps it was because she was fighting against the idea that she _knew_ this girl from somewhere. But that was impossible. Then again, so was everything it seemed.

“Because we have somewhere to be,” she answered. Though her lips moved her voice still seemed to bounce from all directions. She walked past Kim, progressing father into the field that they seemed to be in the center of. Though that was impossible to tell, Kim realized, because it appeared to go on forever. She frowned.

“If this isn’t a dream, then where are we?”

The girl, who was barefoot and with long golden legs, slender and perfect, didn’t acknowledge that Kim had said anything. Instead she stooped to the base of a tree, frowning at it lightly as if she were expecting something to be there other than bark. She wore a simple white shirt dress, like a night gown almost, that came to her upper thigh.

“How should I know,” the girl finally said, after standing again. She disappeared behind the tree. Kim marched the distance between them to see what she was doing on the other side.

“Well you’re here, aren’t you?” she pressed. “Shouldn’t you know?”

“You’re here too. You don’t know,” the girl reasoned, still looking intently at the tree. “Ah,” she said, reaching up to clutch a branch. She was acting as if she’d found what she was looking for, and once her hand had clasped around the branch, it became clear she had. The branch peeled back to reveal a very skinny door in the tree, one that was too thin for any human to fit through, though it was tall enough.

“You seem to know an awful lot about this place for someone who doesn’t know where they are,” Kim said, eyeing the door suspiciously. At this the girl turned to face Kim intently.

“I don’t know anything about this place. This is your place. You just have to realize it. We don’t have time to waist, either.”

Kim frowned. _My place,_ she thought, peering around at the open fields. It was a _nice_ place, and she supposed she wouldn’t mind if it was hers. But then, there was something unsettling in the back of her mind, and she couldn’t quite figure out what.

“You need to remember. It takes a while, usually. But as I said, we don’t have a while. You need to remember now.”

Kim’s brow furrowed deeper. It was lonely here in this field. She had this golden girl, and Kim liked her well enough. Actually, Kim felt she liked her very much, but just didn’t know how or why yet. But still there were things missing. Her friends. Why was this place so empty, if it was her place? Why was it so lonely?

And then, with a faint look of shock, she remembered.

“I’m dead,” she breathed.

The girl smiled. “Very good. I always knew you were a clever one. Now, follow me.” She opened the impossibly skinny door and stepped through, though Kim didn’t watch her do it. She was too busy staring blankly at nothing. _I’m dead…_ The girl’s hand clasped around Kim’s and pulled her though the door. Kim didn’t bother to think about how she couldn’t possibly fit through the space, she merely did it and then blinked at the new surroundings on the other side.

“Where are we now?” she asked blankly. They stood in a cozy room with books lining the walls, lining every wall and taking up every bit of space that wasn’t occupied by the long fluffy couch and the fireplace, crackling and spitting. Kim couldn’t feel the heat of its flame.

“Someone else’s place. Or another one of yours. You tell me,” the girl said, moving across the room and turning to walk backwards so she could look at Kim with those startling, familiar golden eyes. _I know those eyes from somewhere…_

“I have no idea,” Kim said, shrugging.

“You do. Think.”

“I- I…” Kim shrugged again, looking around. “No, I don’t think so. I don’t think this is my place. But if it’s not mine, whose?”

“Could be anyone,” the girl shrugged as she turned to face away. She opened the door behind her. Kim thought for a fleeting moment that it hadn’t been there a moment ago. But then, of course it had been.

“Who are you?” Kim said, following the girl into a cathedral with wooden pews and lit candles in the back. There was a woman sitting in one of the seats, but her head was bowed, and Kim got the feeling that she wasn’t important. That perhaps she wasn’t real at all.

“You know who I am,” the girl said, smiling again. “I’m your guide. Lucky you. Most people don’t have a guide, and none ever as pretty as me.”

Kim made a mocking face at the girl, her _guide_ , though she couldn’t deny her beauty. She scoffed and followed as the girl continued forward, passing down the isle of the cathedral.

“Okay,” Kim pondered allowed. “You’re my guide… and I know you, somehow. I can tell I do… but where are we? Not right here, but…” she gestured around, trying to figure out the word. “I mean, what is this? If I’m dead, is this…”

“Heaven?” the girl laughed, turning on her heels to walk backwards again. “No. This is the waiting place.”

“The waiting place…” Kim pondered.

“That’s right. People come here after they die, and they wait. They wait to find their way back, or… find their way on…”

Kim followed her guide through a small, ornately carved door beside one of the isles. There were no other doors out of the cathedral, which wasn’t odd to Kim for some reason. They came out to stand in a living room that was alarmingly familiar. The drapes with sun pouring through, the gaudy, bulky knitted pillows, the paneling on the wall behind the fireplace.

“Fred and George…” Kim breathed. It was undoubtedly their apartment, though eerily quiet without any sound coming up from the joke shop, and neither Fred nor George bustling about. “Are we really here?” She moved to the kitchen and toward the bedroom door and then slowed, turning back to face her guide. “They’re not here, are they?”

The girl shook her head, a hint of pity in her eyes.

“Because they’re not dead…”

“That’s right. And this is good. You’re doing well. This is obviously one of your places, though I must say not a favorite of mine,” she said, peering around the room with a crinkled nose. “Too noisy. Anyway, let’s press on. We’re getting closer.”

“Closer to what?”

“Closer to the exit.”

“Exit?”

“Mh-hm,” the girl hummed as she passed through the doorway. Kim hesitated in the room for only a moment before a soft, heatless hand that was neither warm nor cold closed around her wrist and pulled her through the door that should’ve led into the hallway.

The place they were in now was familiar to Kim. But this wasn’t her place, she was sure. It was a dormitory, and one that Kim felt she recognized. It wasn’t as though she had been there necessarily, but the drapes on the bed, the sheets, the iron window frames… it was Hogwarts. And if she wasn’t mistaken, it was Gryffindor Tower.

“Whose place is this?” Kim asked, an edge in her voice that she didn’t yet understand. She glanced over at her guide when she didn’t answer. She looked a bit worried.

“We really should keep going,” she said uncertainly.

Kim’s frown deepened, along with her feeling of alarm. “Hello?” she said, unsure of why she was certain they were not alone. “Who’s here? Hello?”

_Hello?_ came a response, but it wasn’t quite audible. She had almost more _felt_ it then heard it.

“Yes! Hello, who is it? Where are you, why can’t I see you?” she said, twisting around in the center of the dormitory until her eyes caught on a figure she hadn’t seen before. He was standing between one of the beds, peering at her. He had long, shaggy dark hair, and had fine lines the seemed more extensive than his age should allow for. He stared at Kim for a moment, as if he didn’t quite know what he should think of her.

“Sirius?” she exclaimed. She didn’t believe it. But when she stepped a pace closer, his existence was made unquestionable. He seemed more real than anything. His wrinkles, the small frizz of his hair, the faint smell of dog, his breath moving the air around her as if she herself suddenly existed again when she hadn’t a moment before.

“K-…” he seemed to be having a heart time saying the words, his face bewildered and focused like he was puzzling something out that had been a mystery to him for a long time. “K-… Kim? I-… Is that you?”

His voice was crisp and vibrating in her eardrums.

“Yes! Yes, it’s me! What are you doing here?”

“W-… What are you doing here?” he said, concern taking his features. “Are you… You’re not dead, are you?”

Kim faltered. His words were coming out much smoother now, and he seemed less confused.

“Yes, I am,” she said, and worried for a moment that perhaps she had just awoken him from the same stupor she had arrived in. “… And so are you.”

“Yes, yes, but-… _how_? You didn’t die in the Ministry, did you?” he pressed.

It took Kim a moment to realize why he would ask this. “No,” she said, “not the same day as you, anyway. Not when the Death Eaters attacked.”

“So you survived… and Harry?”

“He’s fine. We all made it out alive.”

“Good… but you,” he said with emphasis, returning to his original concern.

“I knew this would happen,” the golden girl sighed and plopped onto a bed near where Kim talked with Sirius. Kim frowned at her for further explanation. “Of course you would find his place… since you came in through the same vail he fell through.”

“You mean, I’m here because we both came in the same way?”

“Well, no. And yes,” she said. “You’re here because you were thinking about him a bit before you died. Thoughts have a lot of power, you understand. Not unlike in the living world, though people tend to realize it more here, after it’s too late,” she added as more of an aside to herself. Kim glance back at Sirius to see that he was staring off at nothing blankly.

“Are you okay?” she asked. His eyes immediately refocused, looking at her.

“As good as I can be.”

“He can’t hear me,” Kim’s guide explained. “Or see me. Or hear you talking to me, or see you seeing me.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because I’m here with you,” the girl explained, standing from the bed and shrugging as if all this were common sense. “Here, people can only perceive what they can perceive. What they’re able and willing to. Not unlike the living world,” she said with a smirk. Kim looked back at Sirius, who sure enough was staring off at nothing again, as if he’d been paused.

“Sirius,” she said plainly.

“Yes, what?” he responded, like nothing. Kim blinked at him.

“How long have you been stuck here for?” she breathed.

He seemed to think about this, not looking at her. “Here? I… I’m really not sure,” he said in a daze.

“We need to keep moving, Kim,” her guide said.

“Why is he still here? Shouldn’t he have… I don’t know, moved on by now? If this is the waiting place, then… what is he waiting for?”

The girl shrugged, looking a bit sorry. “Only he can know. It happens sometimes. People get stuck here for a long time, waiting… too attached to the old world to move on, and not attached enough to be pulled back.”

“Pulled back?”

“Yes.”

“You mean… come back from the dead?”

“No,” she said, smiling ruefully. “Come back, yes, but be alive… no. That rarely happens.” She began to pace with her hands folded behind her back. “You see, when a body dies, their spirit comes here. Separate from their body. They can’t go back into that body again once they’ve been separated from it. But you’re an unusual case… you came here inside your body, because you fell through the veil.”

At this Kim’s features went lively again. “So did Sirius! He fell through he veil just like me, so he’s here in his body, I know he is, I can feel it!”

“Yes,” the girl said, but for some reason she sounded sad. Kim didn’t want to hear the sadness. She turned quickly to Sirius.

“We’ve got to go,” she said to him, to which he looked at her confused.

“Go?”

“Kim, we can’t take him with us,” her guide insisted.

“Why? Why not, you said yourself; my body’s not dead, neither is his, we should take him with us…” But the girl was slowly shaking her head.

“He’s been here too long. He’s already started the process of crossing over. It’s just taking him a long time. But if he returned to the living land now… he wouldn’t be right. He wouldn’t be all there. Too much of him has already begun to pass.”

“No… But I know he’s here, I can feel…” But looking at his vacant stare made her determination drain from her. She wasn’t as certain as she’d felt a moment ago. This Sirius, this version of him was… half. But certainly, she couldn’t just leave him here to wait forever.

“Sirius,” she said sternly, grabbing his attention, “Harry is fine.”

His brow bent with concern. “How do you know?”

“I was just with him. He’s fine. He’s happy. He’s… got a girlfriend, and all his friends, and he’s captain of the quidditch team now.”

Sirius’s lips bent up into a smile, crinkling his cheeks in a way that implied he hadn’t smiled in an eternity. His eyes started to water. “Captain of the quidditch team…” he breathed.

“Yeah, of course he is. And everything is going to be fine.”

“You’re certain?”

Kim cringed at this, but she tried her hardest not to let it show. She was lying, and the terrible truth behind her words cut her tongue as she spoke. “Yes, I’m certain. I’ll look after him, like I promised,” she said in a choked voice. “I won’t-… I won’t let anything happen to him.”

“Kim,” he sighed, a sound of pure relief and gratitude. He slumped back, eye lids dipping. “Thank you.” With that he leaned himself back onto his bed. He lay down slowly while Kim watched, mouth a tight grimace. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and then fell asleep instantly. Kim let the shudder of a cry escape between her lips, fighting the burning in her eyes. _Harry’s not going to be all right, he’s going to die and you will be the one to kill him, or near enough to it._

“We _must_ keep going. If you stay here too long…” She didn’t need to finish. Kim turned away from Sirius and followed her guide from the dormitory. They entered a large open hall, unfamiliar and plain, with a tall clock in the center of it. There were people walking here and there, faces buried in newspapers. They weren’t important, weren’t real again, like the women in the pews.

“Why was Sirius still here?” Kim asked, following her guide through the hall.

“I told you, he hadn’t let go of his life yet. Sometimes it takes time to mo—”

“No, I understand that. I mean, if he was still attached to the old life- if he was still inside his living body, why didn’t he come back? Why did he stay here?”

“Because _he,_ unlike you, didn’t have me.”

“You…”

“You’re guide. You should count yourself lucky, though I’d be fibbing if I tried to convince you it was luck,” he said with a little smile.

“You mean everyone doesn’t have a guide?” They had almost made it fully across the hall, brushing past the nobodies as they hustled along.

“No, most people don’t. With no guide, there is no way back. Without me, you’d be… stuck here. Until you became a spirit attached in the old world, or moved on. But either way, you’d be dead.”

“I’m not dead?”

“Well,” she said lightly, with an air of laughter, “you are. Just… not forever.”

Kim stopped short. “Not forever?”

The golden girl turned to look at Kim and tilted her head to the side. In that moment she looked more familiar than ever, blinking her brilliant eyes at her. Kim

 thought she knew, but it wasn’t possible…

“No, not forever. In fact, I have a feeling we’re almost there. Perhaps just behind this door,” she added absently, running her hand along the small door in the corner of the hall, like a door to a closet. “You’re not finished with the living. There are still things you need to do. That is, unless you don’t _want_ to go back.”

“N-no, I do… I’m just…”

“What?” she said, smirking. “You didn’t think I’d lead you in here to die, did you? And then not give you a way out?”

_Lead me in here… but then… could she really be…_

“But if this is… I don’t know, the afterlife,” Kim breathed, staring at nothing, “how can I come back? If I’m dead, how could I possible return?”

“It’s probably best that I tell you now, since we’re getting so close,” the girl said with sudden severity. “Time is not the same here. So even I can’t say exactly how long it’s been for the living.”

“How long I’ve been dead…” Kim muttered as the girl continued to talk.

“The way you are going to get back, is the same way you got in. Through a veil. You didn’t think the Ministry had the only one, did you?”

“I-… I don’t know, I kind of thought they created it.”

“Pfft,” the girl scoffed, looking up at the ceiling and making a face of ridiculousness. “Mortals, _make_ a veil. No… they merely _caught_ it. A feat of some impressiveness, I’ll admit.”

“Caught it?”

The girl nodded. “You see, there are veils all over existence, portals to the place of waiting. They don’t stay in the same place, and they’re invisible, so they can’t be tracked, or found. And what’s more important for you, people don’t _usually_ come back out of them.” She said it like it was more something that _never_ happened, but was trying to be gentle. “So… there’s no telling where you’ll end up, when you come back out.”

Kim was quiet for a moment, thinking there must be more explanation because nothing made sense still, not because what she’d said was confusing, but because it was _impossible._ “Come back out… into the… into the world, the land of the living… alive.”

“Yes. Now that you’re really starting to grasp it, I’m sure we must be there.”

“There? Where?” Kim said, looking all around the door for some sign that they’d arrived somewhere significant. There was nothing, and furthermore Kim couldn’t figure out why someone would choose such a mundane place to be _there’s_.

“The exit,” she said with a smile, and her hand moved behind her to clasp the doorknob without looking away from Kim.

“W-wait,” Kim said, a thrill of panic turning her insides.

“Wait for what, it’s time—”

“Wait, I-… I still don’t understand, who are you?”

She smiled again, fondly. “I already told you, you know who I am. But there’s no time for that. We need to go now.”

“Wait but-” She was already opening the door though, and instead of another room there was only darkness on the other side. It wasn’t a frightening darkness, however. It was cool and soothing, and the moment the air from the other side leaked into the space around Kim, she felt enticed to move forward. Her skin craved the feeling of moving air against the tiny hairs on her body so much that she got goosebumps at the idea of letting the darkness embrace her. It felt real, it felt like existing. She hadn’t realized how uncomfortably stifled her body had been until now.

She bowed forward into the blackness without another word, letting her body drift out into it until she was aware of nothing, until she was nothing.


	2. Not Dead

Chapter 2

Not Dead

Kim sucked in a mouthful of water and immediately began choking. She was floating, not in the blackness of before, but in a new blackness. Her bones were piercingly cold, and there was no light pressing on her eyelids. She flailed in the water for a moment, limbs feeling impossibly heavy until she remembered how to swim. _And I must swim_ , she though with increasing panic. Her lungs burned from the lake water in her throat, and the pressure of being deep under made her feel more that she’d been buried alive than drowned.

She opened her eyes to the blurry murk, unable to see much past a few feet. Drifting plant debris. Fish. She kicked as heard as she could, but being fully clothed made her drag unevenly through the thick water. Her wand was clutched in her hand, though she didn’t remember putting it there, and she couldn’t think about it either. All she could think was, _surface, air, need air… I’m drowning._

She drew in water to her mouth again involuntarily as she kicked, unable to stop herself attempting to gasp. She couldn’t even think of magic in her panic, couldn’t calm her mind enough to remember a spell that might help her. The surface broke over her head, her eyes were exploded with light, and her lungs projected the water out of her in a violent caught. The air was so much thinner than water, as though she’d forgotten what it felt like. The breeze was cool against her sopping wet skin. The sun blinded her, and the air scraped down her throat and into her pinched lungs. She gasped and flailed for a moment as her heart thundered impossibly hard.

As soon as her lungs had received adequate, if not painful air, her arms slowed their flailing. She twisted in the water, frantically taking in her surroundings. She was indeed in a lake, and the shore was thankfully not far. It was lush grass that came to meet with a short muddy embankment, a thin forest beyond. Kim swam for it, huffing and coughing still. Her feet sunk into a muddy floor soon, thankfully, though she found with standing that her body was heavy. Her sodden robes weighed her down so much so that she stumbled in the mud and landed chest against the solid embankment of grass. She coughed some more, the agitation of her throat growing worse with the more air she sucked into it. More water leaked from her mouth than seemed possible. She spat it in the grass before her. Then there was a light flapping sound and something came to land in the grass nearby.

She looked up from the ground, panting and bleary eyed, to see Strix. Her feathers were a bit damp so she puffed herself forcefully, throwing off droplets of water and becoming spherical with fluff. For a moment they merely looked at one another.

“It was you, wasn’t it,” she said. With the words, the memory of what she had just encountered sped through her. Last thing she remembered, truly remembered, was diving into the veil at the ministry. Evidently one of many. There were other memories, of a golden girl who lead her through the maze of nothingness, of Sirius, of darkness… Those memories didn’t feel real. It felt like she’d just awoken from a dream and could remember only pieces of what had just transpired. She could feel the details, the clarity of what had just been real to her moments ago fading away, her mind struggling to grasp on to the full chronology of it, and rather only maintaining the imprint. 

“It was you,” she repeated with more conviction, sitting upright. “You guided me though, you… you could _talk_.” Even as she said it she knew how insane it was. But hadn’t she just been spat out in the bottom of a lake in… She looked around. Nothing was familiar. Strix hopped closer to her in the grass and peered up at her, tilting her head slightly sideways. It was the same look her guide had given her, the one that had made her feel certain she knew the girl from somewhere. There was no doubt in her mind, though the madness of the idea was unquestionable, that Strix had lead her through the in-betweens of life and death, and had… resurrected her. Or lead her to the path that allowed her to return, but that was semantics, really. She’d been dead before, and now she was alive. She might be able to ponder on the insanity of this at some point later, but at the present, all she could think of was getting _home._

The Burrow was the first place that came to mind. She could go to Fred and George’s shop, but something about that didn’t feel as safe. There were so many people and so many things to go wrong, so many things to explain… The Burrow felt safer, felt like the right choice.

She heaved herself forward out of the muck, her foot making a sucking noise as it was released from the mud. She rolled onto her back and looked at the sky. It was the perfect white-blue with wispy clouds sliding by. _I’m alive…_ It was strange how natural it felt to be alive. Like there was no other way to _be,_ even though she had only just been… _not_ alive. She thought she should feel different now somehow, but she didn’t. She just felt like a person, sopping wet and chilled to the marrow on the bank of a lake.

“Okay,” she sighed. “Let’s get out of here.” She huffed and sat upright, using her hands against the ground to help herself. She threw off her robe. It was so soaked it weighed double what it should, and its bottom was caked with thick lake mud. Her skirt and shirt clung to her and water dripped from her hair and off the tip of her nose.  Strix flapped from the ground to land on her shoulder. She spit some of the water from her lips and closed her eyes. She pictured the garden of the Burrow. It was clear in her mind, and she made sure to see nothing but the rows of lifted dirt with green sprouts here and there, a soft sheet of white snow like a blanket on the yard and roof, a gnome running by peevishly, the house behind it, old and quant as a country farm house.

Her stomach twisted and the air changed. She opened her eyes. There it was, just as she remembered it, though it was untouched by snow. That meant it must still be summer…

_But she said time wasn’t the same where I was… so it could be anytime, I have no way of knowing…_ A thrill of panic ran up her spine, but the chill of the breeze against her sopping cloths and skin pushed her forward. She would just have to find out how long it had been , though she couldn’t silence the aching fear that a century had passed, and all she knew and loved was gone.

She proceeded to the window sill with caution. There were sounds of people moving about, some idle, distant chatter. She squatted under the sill and peeked into the Weasley’s kitchen. There was Mrs. Weasley, waving her wand to chop up some carrots and summon a pan. Her features were tired and worn. Still, the relief that washed over Kim was immense. She moved to the door without being noticed, opening and letting the sounds of the distant chatter fill her ears and the smell of the Weasley’s family home and the simmering stew fill her nose. _I’m home,_ she thought, smiling with relief as Mrs. Weasley turned to see her.

She started, making a gasping cry and putting a hand to her heart. Kim supposed she was an odd sight, dripping lake water onto her kitchen floor, breath still coming in uneven from the recent drowning. But Mrs. Weasley didn’t relax upon realizing it was Kim, she just stared with wide eyes, as if she didn’t quite recognize her. _Do I look different?_

“K-” came a choked sound from the entrance into the Kitchen. George was standing there, eyes just as wide as Mrs. Weasley’s. “Kim?” His voice barley made it out of his throat.

“Hey,” she said meekly, not understanding the reaction she was receiving, though she could feel herself beginning to suspect.

“Y-… is it really you?” He didn’t move from where he was, poised in the doorframe into the kitchen. Kim just looked at him meaningfully, waiting for him to realize that of course it was. He seemed to in the next moment, his shoulders going slack and his body untensing, as though he’d been waiting on his toes for so long he’d forgotten he was doing it. He came forward the two wide paces between them and threw his arms around her, sopping as she was, and gripped her tighter than he ever had, with more unabashed gusto, with no fear or shame. There was only relief in his posture, only unmounted gratitude. With the force of the motion Strix flew of Kim’s shoulder and went to find perch elsewhere.

“You’re alive,” he breathed, wrapping his hand around the back of her sopping head and pressing her face against his chest. She put her arms around him. It felt too good to be in someone’s arms to question the reasoning. Mrs. Weasley was sobbing in the background as George rocked with Kim in his arms, breathing her in, inhaling her existence. “I can’t believe you’re alive.” She felt him press his lips and nose against her head, and their closeness suddenly alarmed her. She wanted to stay here, held by him, but she worried of what it might become.

“Of course I am,” she said, loosening her arms around his waist. He didn’t let go of her right away, but held on for an extra moment before releasing her head from his palm. She looked at him worriedly. He searched her features as if they were very important, perhaps searching for any sign that she was different. It didn’t seem as though he had found any, and his hand which had come to land where her shoulder became her neck gripped her affectionately, wantingly. His lips were a heard line, like he was trying not to say everything at once, and his eyes told a story of heavy sorrow lifted, rectified.

“How?” he asked breathlessly.

Kim smiled uncomfortably and with a bitter edge to the creases in her eyes. “That’s… a long story,” she decided, though it wasn’t really. It was just an impossible one.

Someone else came into the doorway then, a perfect view of George and Kim in each other’s arms. The steps stopped short, making Kim look over to them. Fred gapped at her as George stepped away, leaving Kim’s arms empty. She didn’t know if she should say something, the same kind of reassurance that George had evidently needed. He stared at her for what seemed like a long time. And then he crossed the distance between them in a bound and with a wide grin, hoisting her up off her feet. He laughed a joyous laugh, the kind someone releases when they discovered a great burden had been lifted from their shoulders. He spun her in circles, making her smile too and let out a soft sound of joy. He lowered her into his arms, still spinning and with her feet still lifted off the ground.

“I knew it! I knew you couldn’t be gone!” She wrapped her arms around his neck and he around her waist, her body dripping all over him. She leaned back to look at him as her feet touched the floor. His eyes begged her to come closer, so she kissed him. Firm and sure, she pressed her lips against his and he took a long deep breath, like he had never breathed before.

“Thank Merlin you’re alive,” he muttered when their lips parted, though her forehead still rested against his. “I don’t know what I would’ve done…”

“It’s okay,” she said, smiling. “I’m alive. I’m here.”

“Oh, this is just…” Mrs. Weasley said in a shaky voice, searching for the words. “It’s a _miracle!_ ” She probably had no idea how right she was.

“I knew the ministry was up to something when they said you were dead, I _knew_ it!” Fred continued, gripping her arms with excitement.

“What’s all the noi-” came Ron’s voice as he entered the kitchen, but stopped short when he laid eyes on Kim. “Blimey,” he breathed. It was silent again in that heart stopping, disbelieving way.

“Back from the dead,” Kim said with a shrug, feeling more herself.

“I don’t believe it,” he breathed, a small smile tugging at the edge of his lips. “Harry! Harry, Hermione!” he turned, yelling up the stairs as his grin widened. “Kim’s alive! She’s here, she’s alive!”

“What?” came a sharp demand from up the stairs, Harry she assumed. And she was right as he bounded down the stairs and crested the kitchen, dawning the same look that was growing familiar. She stepped past Fred and George to approach him.

“Hey, Harry,” she said softly. He threw an arm around her, as did Ron, as if he’d been waiting for someone else to lead the way. Harry squeezed her as he let out a breathy laugh, and Ron patted her firmly on the back.

“I don’t understand, how—”

But his question was interrupted by a high voice, “Kim!” Hermione launched herself at Kim, throwing her arms around her neck, making her laugh. “I can’t believe it, Kim,” she muttered, voice sounding shaky. “You’re alive!” When she finally released Kim her eyes were filling with tears but she was smiling.

“Tell us Kim, what happened?” Fred pressed. With everyone around her she was beginning to feel a bit strangled. She was so happy to be in their midst, but with everyone asking her questions and huddling so near she couldn’t think. She couldn’t think of what had happened, or what she should say.

“Give her a moment,” Mrs. Weasley said, ushering in between the twins. “The poor thing, she’s sopping wet. Come here dear, I’ll get you some of Ginny’s clothes and something warm to drink.” Kim followed Mrs. Weasley up the stairs, meeting Ginny along the way who stared at Kim with wide, uncertain eyes. Mrs. Weasley assured her all would be explained in due time and asked her for a change of clothes for Kim. Kim got dressed in a pair of pajama pants, because Ginny’s jeans would undoubtedly be too small in the hips, and a long-sleeved shirt. When she returned to the ground floor everyone, including Ginny, Tonks, and Lupin sat in the living room, awaiting her. Only Mr. Weasley was absent, working. She gulped down a large sip of tea which scolded a bit on the back of her tongue, but it seemed to scorch away the scrapping in her throat almost immediately.

“Now, when you’re ready dear,” Mrs. Weasley said, settling down on the couch beside Ginny. Kim sat in the cushiony arm chair with all eyes on her. Strix came to land on the headrest behind her, as if for comfort.

“Well…” she began uncertainly. “It’s hard for me to explain when I don’t exactly know what you _think._ Maybe we should start with what you know?”

“Nothing, apparently,” Fred said.

“We thought you were dead,” Harry said solemnly.

“I gathered that, but… before that. How did you find out I was dead, _when_ …” she was trying to figure out how long exactly it had been since she had gone. How much had she missed?

“From the beginning then,” Lupin encouraged, looking to Harry.

“Right… well, you were taken by the Department of Mysteries,” he said, looking at Kim slowly. _Yes,_ she thought, _that was the last time I saw him. I was being yanked from my seat in the Great Hall. How alarmed they all must’ve been._ She could remember Harry’s voice echoing off the walls, telling her he would get Dumbledore to fix everything.

Then remembrance filled her with a sudden sickness in her stomach, making her fingers clench the hot mug of tea with clawing fingers. She tried not to shake as she directed her eyes back to Harry’s gaze. “Dumbledore,” she said. “… Is he… Is he dead?”

Harry’s tight expression told her the answer. She reminded herself that she’d known, they both had. But she hadn’t gotten to say goodbye…

“The day after you were taken away,” Harry finally said, “Dumbledore and I went… out to dinner.” Kim could tell this was a lie, but she didn’t understand it. Until she remembered what Harry and Dumbledore had been working on together all year; horcruxes. There were others in the room who didn’t know. “When we came back… there was an attack. With Malfoy and… with Snape.” He said the name like it was a forbidden curse. “Snape did it… he killed Dumbledore.”

“Snape?” she said with confusion. But then, he was the only other person, or so she knew, who was aware of Dumbledore’s condition, of his impending death. But what had happened, why had he betrayed Dumbledore so suddenly…

“Yes. He was with the Death Eaters. He killed Dumbledore. With no remorse or-” he cut himself short and looked at the floor. It took him a moment to come back. “The next day it was in the paper that you were being sentenced to Azkaban. The next day… the same day as Dumbledore’s funeral… the papers said you were dead.”

“…And how long ago was that?”

Fred and George looked at her with concern, and Harry faltered a moment before speaking again.

“That was Saturday. Today is Monday.”

Kim let out a sigh of relief and leaned slowly to rest against the backrest. She took a long sip of tea.

“How long did you think it had been? How long have you been out there?” Fred asked, nodding his head vaguely back in the direction she’d come from.

“It’s not a matter of how long I’ve been _out there_ ,” she said bleakly. She was coming to the part where they expected answers. An explanation. But how could she explain?

“What happened to you? When they took you to the ministry? Why did they take you?” Lupin asked.

Kim fidgeted in her seat. It was at least a bit easier to explain being tortured by the ministry then it was explaining coming back from the dead. “They took me because of my visions. They were suspicious of me. They thought I had withheld information from them, and they thought I had lied about some of my visions, like the one giving the fake location of Sirius.”

Harry’s eyes got tight for only an instant. “I forgot you’d done that,” he said.

“Yes well, they hadn’t been suspicious before and suddenly they were. They fired Mr. Branderbon for it, which I don’t understand… And they didn’t really seem to have to follow the rules… or the law…”

“That’s, unfortunately, not too surprising,” sighed Lupin. He pushed his elbows off his knees where he’d been leaning forward and sat back. “We’ve suspected for some time that the Ministry was becoming infiltrated with Death Eaters, or those cursed to do Voldemort’s bidding. This seems to confirm it. It’s likely that they were not actually interested in information about the lie you told for Sirius, rather they wanted information about the organization that Sirius was aligned with. The Order of the Phoenix.”

“Yeah,” Kim agreed. “Mr. Shrenn, the one interrogating me, he asked about the group Sirius was working with. He didn’t say The Order, he wanted me to say it. But I wouldn’t be surprised if he already knew and was just trying to get me to confirm it, to give up more.”

It was quiet for a moment as Kim remembered Mr. Shrenn’s crow like features boring down at her. A shiver ran up her body.

“I have to ask, Kim,” Lupin continued cautiously. “It’s all right if you did, but we need to know… did you give up any information about the Order. Anything at all?”

Kim paused. “I don’t think so,” she said, shaking her head. “He was using Legilimency, but I was able to keep him out for the most part. I don’t think he saw anything.”

“Thank goodness, then, that Dumbledore taught you Occlumency. And thank goodness you had an aptitude for it.”

Kim gave a halfhearted smile.

“What did they do to you?” Fred said. “There’s something you’re not telling us.” He was looking at her keenly, examining her.

“Well, it wasn’t pleasant, I don’t suppose you’d expect any different… They chained me to a chair and left me there. I don’t know how long I was there, really. A day… two. I’m not sure… They wouldn’t let me have any water. Or food… They wouldn’t let me go to the bathroom,” she added quietly. She dipped her head down to look into her tea.

“So this is what it’s coming to, then,” George said with that anger, that rage that sometimes boiled up inside him unexpectedly. Kim was trying to build up her resolve for what she had to tell them next. She couldn’t leave it out, she’d decided, because the fact that she had fallen into the veil meant that the ministry undoubtedly thought she was dead. Which meant they wouldn’t go looking for her, an unforeseen benefit to dying.

“I knew they were lying about it,” Fred said with vigor. “I knew you weren’t dead and they were… I dunno what I thought, but I just knew something wasn’t right. I called your aunt this morning, found her through her living room fire. I asked her if they had been… if they had gotten your body for burial.” His voice got very stiff and uncharacteristically strangled. “She said they had given her some rubbish about your body being destroyed in the accident. They wouldn’t even explain the nature of the accident, what had happened. Only that you’d been killed during transit to Azkaban… I thought maybe… I dunno… I thought maybe the Death Eaters had gotten you.”

“How did you get away?” Harry pressed.

_Here it goes._ Kim cleared her throat in preparation. “You’re not going to believe me.”

They waited expectantly for her to continued, and when she didn’t, looked around at one another curiously. “I’m sure we’ll find it in us to,” Harry said sarcastically.

Kim smirked. “You think there’s nothing that can surprise you anymore. But you’re wrong… I had been locked in there for all that time, like I said, I don’t know how long, with Mr. Shrenn coming in every so often to try and break into my thoughts. But he told me that the next time he showed up, it’d be with truth serum. And I couldn’t let that happen, so I figured a way to escape. I used legilimency to read the guards and manipulate them into—”

“Wait, they left you a wand?” Harry said. Kim looked at him.

“Without a wand, Harry.” She merely blinked at his agape expression. “I did it without a wand.”

Harry’s eyes widened farther. “But how could you-” he looked to Lupin.

Kim hadn’t expected this part of the story to be extraordinary. She supposed she had seen Dumbledore do legilimancy so many countless times without touching his wand that she hadn’t truly considered in her time of need that she shouldn’t be able to do so.

“It is impressive,” Lupin began, as it appeared Harry was looking to him for some kind of explanation. “There are some forms of magic that are considered higher order. They are considered so because they either are unaided by the use of a wand, or because they are better performed without one, unlike usual spells which are near to impossible to cast without a wand. Apparition is one such magical skill that does not use a wand. It just so happens that Occlumency, Ligilimency, as well as Divination are along the same line. They _can_ be performed with a wand, but are generally much more powerful if used without. Still, though… you’re a more skilled witch then I gave you credit for.” He smiled at her wryly. Kim didn’t really feel all that impressed with herself. For all her supposed magical skills, she hadn’t been able to face two wizards long enough to escape the ministry.

She cleared her throat and continued. “So, anyway, I escaped. I managed to get away from one of the guards while the other was gone. But they caught up with me… I couldn’t get out of the department of mysteries, so I ran into the nearest open room… The Death Chamber.”

None of them seemed to find this a severe statement. Kim had to swallow heard in order to continue. “I was trapped. Backed up against the veil…” She started to choke on her words. What she had done, the decision she made. She _killed_ herself. She’d had to. The memory of her heart thundering in her chest, a dribble of blood making its way down her cheek. The solidarity she felt in her decision, her choice to leave this world and never return, to throw herself away to protect the secrets she carried. The memories drew tears to her eyes. She couldn’t even fathom how she had been strong enough to do it, and yet there was no denying what it had taken to do what she’d done.

“I- I had to make sure that they didn’t get any information from me. And I didn’t have anywhere to go, so… I jumped into the vail.”

They all stared at her, like they had been, intently and unblinking. But it didn’t seem like any of them understood.

“I chose death,” she said bleakly, unable to look at any of them anymore. “I chose to die.” Her voice had withered to nothing but a shaken whisper.

“I- I don’t understand,” said Hermione after a long silence. “I don’t understand, how could you—

”

“You’re talking about the,” Harry said, thinking “that thing, that archway… the one that Sirius…”

Kim nodded, eyes fixed on some distant place on the floor.

“That’s not possible,” said Lupin, oddly cold. “If you had gone through that veil, you wouldn’t be sitting here with us now.”

“That’s what I thought. I had full intention of never coming back, I thought-… but here I am. But I assure you, and it’s important that you understand, I _did_ die.” She looked up at them at this. They’re faces were unreadable, blank, either not believing or not understanding. “I fell through veil. I disappeared from the ministry, and I went somewhere… I went somewhere else. And for a while, for the days in between then and now… I was gone. Once I disappeared the Ministry must have sentenced me to prison because it would make them look less bad when they had to announce I was killed while under their watch. I’m certain the news that a teenage girl had killed herself while being detained would not have gone over well in the papers.”

“Kim, why would you—”George began.

“ _How_ could you,” Fred cut in. “How did you… how did you get here, how did you get back?”

“…I’m really not sure. But I showed up again, at the bottom of a lake… I don’t know where I was. I managed to swim up from the bottom and got to shore. I’ve never been there before, wherever I was… and then I came here. I apparated outside the house and came to the door…”

“This is…” stammered Lupin.

“This is impossible,” agreed Hermione, aw struck.

“But what if it’s not,” said Harry. “What if…” He didn’t have to finish for Kim to know what he was going to say. _Sirius._

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Kim said, looking at him. “I-… I actually saw Sirius. On the other side… I tried to bring him with me, I really did, but… he couldn’t come with me. He’d been dead for too long, there was nothing I could do,” she said hastily. Harry didn’t seem to believe her. She could tell already that Hermione didn’t believe her story at all, and possibly Lupin either. They were both trying to come up with some logical explanation, her story nothing but a lucid dream fabricated by the trauma bent mind of a helpless girl to them. But she needed Harry to believe her. She needed him to understand.

“I know it sounds crazy, Harry,” Kim said. “Please just trust that I wouldn’t believe any of it if it hadn’t been absolutely clear. I mean, I was confused… I still am… But I was told that my time hadn’t come yet, that there was still work I had to do, and I know there is. So here I am. I’m sorry I couldn’t bring back Sirius, but I talked to him. I told him you’re happy. And safe. I told him you were quidditch captain.”

Harry scoffed and crossed his arms, falling back against the back of the sofa. “Quidditch captain. As if that matters…”

“It mattered to him… it made his passing easier. He’s resting now, I think. He’s able to let go. I thought that would be important to you.” There was only honestly in her tone, no malice.

Harry looked at her apologetically. “It is… thank you… I just wish I could’ve seen him.”

“I know. I wish that too.” And that was the end of the conversation. Lupin went on to talk logistics with Tonks. The Order had apparently gone looking for Kim, trying to locate her in the ministry and plan an escape for her. Dumbledore had ordered it before he’d died, which, from what Kim could discern, had happened near the same time that she had died. The Order, of course, had not been able to find her, because she had no longer been inside the ministry. The Department of Mysteries was seemingly infiltrated by Voldemort supporters, because everything about Kim’s abduction had been unlawful. Lupin said he would notify the Order that Kim was alive, but that the Ministry may believe her dead. It would be best to keep it that way.

 


	3. Qualifications

Chapter  3

Qualifications

Kim lay out across the bed with Fred and George sitting on the floor, magicking a balled up pair of socks across the bedroom. They had stayed with Kim in the Burrow now, allowing for some time, for things to sort out. Harry and Hermione had gone back to their respective homes for the time being, though they had all discussed meeting up once more over the summer, probably for Bill and Fleur’s wedding. Fred and George’s decision to stay with her at the Burrow caused them to restrict the stores hours substantially, and though they wouldn’t say it to Kim now, she knew it was bad for business. Their booming success when they first opened had started to dwindle, and now was not the time to be taking days off. But still, she supposed somethings were more important. She would allow herself to be one of those just this once, if only because she had so many other worries to concern herself with.

Fred twisted around from where he sat against the wall beside a window, peering out the pain for seemingly no reason.

“I think Mad-Eye’s back,” he said, George pelting the sock ball at the back of his head. It bounced off and Fred didn’t even take notice. He hoisted himself off the floor and exited the bedroom. He’d been very keen to keep informed about what was going on with the Ministry and the Order of the Phoenix. The Order was said to be investigating what the Ministry thought of Kim’s disappearance. Did they truly think Kim was dead, as she claimed?

Kim’s eyes drifted from the window across the room and caught on George’s, still sitting opposite her on the floor. He was looking at her intently, eyes gazing with some emotion that Kim didn’t want to discern.

“What?” she asked lightly, trying not to be awkward.

His gaze didn’t become any less intense and meaningful. He watched her as she ducked her head a bit, faking a small laugh, straining to sound light.

“It wasn’t easy, you know… thinking you were dead,” he finally said.

Kim didn’t look up from the quilt she lay on, stomach down and elbows propping her up. “I can’t imagine it was…”

“No, you can’t imagine it… I couldn’t’ve two weeks ago if you’d asked me.” He shook his head. He’d torn his gaze away from Kim now and was staring at the distance fixedly, seeing something else. “I thought you were _gone.”_

Kim didn’t know how to respond at first. “But I’m not… I’m here. I know it must’ve been… shocking, not that Fred lets on about it.”

“He just doesn’t know how to talk about it,” George said, seeming to be trying to pull his eyes from the far off place. “… I’m not even sure he ever accepted it, to be honest. When we found out- it was Dad who told us… He showed up in our fireplace before we had the chance to read the morning papers. I don’t think he wanted us to find out that way…” He cleared his throat then and looked back at Kim, less intensely than before. “Anyway, when we found out, Fred went mad for a while. He started yelling, angry, saying he didn’t understand. Saying Dad was wrong somehow. Even after he read the papers, after the Order couldn’t find you… he didn’t believe it. I guess he was right.”

“Well… completely by chance I’d think. Since I _was,_ for a time, dead. My body was gone, my sole was gone… So really it was just coincidence that he ended up being right, I mean I think we both know the odds of coming back from the dead.”

He was staring at nothing again. “Got to be… as likely as mad-eye acting normal for three seconds.”

Kim just looked at him for a moment as a small smile curled the ends of his lips. She let out a sort of hissing laugh and dropped her head against the quilt. George chuckled along good naturedly, and their laugh was interrupted by Fred barging in the room.

“It’s Mad-Eye, he wants to talk with you,” Fred said. Kim grunted as she hoisted herself off the bed and followed Fred downstairs.

“So, the reincarnate arrives,” Mad-Eye said in his croaky voice.

“Does that mean you believe me?”

“Got no choice but to believe you… The Ministry has no idea you’re alive. They’re safely sure you died that night in the Department of Mysteries. Which, I’d advise you plan to keep that way.”

“Right.”

“That means no contact with your family, I’m afraid.”

“Yeah, I know…” _They’ll think I’m dead still… They’re grieving my death now… But it’s probably safer for them. The less they know about me, about what’s happening here in England, the better. For now, they’ll just have to think I’m dead…_ She didn’t want to think of the long-term implications of this. She just knew it was something she had to do.

“Guess that also means I’m not going back to Hogwarts.”

“Certainly not. Not only will the Ministry come after you if they find you’re alive, Hogwarts isn’t really safe anymore, now that Dumbledore’s gone.”

The words punched Kim in the gut. She knew Dumbledore was dead. She’d known he was going to die long before most. Still, because she hadn’t been there for it, hadn’t been there for the funeral, it didn’t feel real. It was just summer and so she wouldn’t see him until school started up in the fall. But that wasn’t true. She wouldn’t see him ever again, she may never see Hogwarts again. Her last memory of him was his assurance to her they’d see each other once more before the end, and not to worry.

“It’s all right, Kim,” Fred said, putting his arm around her shoulders, squeezing in support. Her eyes had started to water without her notice. She swallowed and looked at the ceiling, trying to encourage the tears to dry. She cleared her throat forcefully.

“I’m fine,” she muttered, turning her attention back to Mad-Eye. “It’s better anyway. I want to join the Order.”

Mad-Eye raised a brow. Kim didn’t let him argue with her.

“I’m old enough, and I was pretty much already in the Order before, more than even Harry.”

“Well… I can’t deny it,” he grunted, conceding.

“Good. Because I want to be involved. I want to help. If I’m not going to be in school, I have to do something useful with my time. And besides, the Ministry thinks I’m dead… that’s got to come in handy at some point, right?”

Mad Eye looked off at the ceiling for a moment, contemplating. “Fine, you’re in.”

“Good,” Kim said brightly as he turned to hobble into the kitchen. “So when’s the first meeting?”

“Meeting?” he grunted.

“What, you don’t meet? Who makes the decisions, just one person?”

“Well, no—”

“Then there must be meetings, right? To settle on what’s to be done.”

He turned on Kim and squinted at her. “What is it exactly that you want done? What _decisions_ are you trying to effect?”

Kim shrugged. “Just… things to do with Harry, with destroying Voldemort. I just want to be involved.”

He grunted in deliberation. “Fine. I’ll be in contact.”

“Good.” She hopped he was true to his word. All she could do was trust, it wasn’t as if she could truly thrust herself into the Order, no matter how much she acted like she could.

“So…” Fred said slowly, and Kim tuned to face him where he was slouched against the wall, hands in his pockets. “The dead girl, after all.”

“That’s me, I guess,” Kim sighed.

George came bouncing down the stairs. “What he say?”

“Kim’s dead.”

“What?”

“Dead to the world, that is,” Kim clarified.

“Good,” he said, swiveling his head to look at Fred. “The world’s dead to us so, ‘bout time we got it back one.”

Kim snorted moving from where they stood before the stairwell to sit on the couch. “You make it sound like I’m such a loss for society.”

“The ministry seemed keen to keep you for themselves,” Fred bantered.

Kim gave a joyless laugh, more like a bark. “No… they just wanted to know what I knew about the Order, they didn’t want me.” She sighed as she said, “But that’s okay. Unlike you two, _I_ know the value of anonymity.” She could hear Dumbledore’s deep, old voice in her head. _Your anonymity to Voldemort will aid you in this. Cling to it._ Now she was about as anonymous as she could be. She was dead.

* * *

“Are you sure you can handle this?” Fred asked as he lugged her trunk into the living room. The Weasley’s had sent for her things under the guise of being her closest magical connections. Hogwarts certainly had no need, and during the interim of having no Headmaster, Professor McGonagall was in charge, so of course she sent them willingly, and promptly.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Kim said exhaustively. She’d only assured them both a hundred times that if she was capable of apparating from- wherever she’d been- to the burrow, she was _certainly_ capable of apparating to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes.

“There’s no harm in not being sure,” George muttered to her from her other side. “You only just started apparating, and we’ve got _years_ more pra—

“George,” Kim said in a mixture of irritation and amusement. She smiled impishly at him. “ _I’ve got it._ ”

“Okay,” he said in a high voice, raising a hand in surrender. “I was just saying you could always tag alone on one of our apparitions.”

“Stop worrying, little brother,” Fred said, making George glair at him. Fred, born moments before George, only used this endearing term to be patronizing.

“I really will be fine,” she assured them for the last time as she took up her bags. They all stood in a circle in the living room, ready to depart, already having issued their goodbye’s to the household. Mrs. Weasley was out running errands or Kim was sure she’d be issuing them a hundred farewells and handing out snacks.

“Ready,” said Fred, looking between his brother and Kim.

“Ready,” said George, and Kim nodded. All at once they were sucked away into oblivion and then plucked back into it again, now in the living room of Fred and George’s apartment. There was a half second of silence and then Kim let out an agonizing wail. She bent low to grasp her leg, blocked from the view of the twins by her trunk.

“Ah- Oh! I’ve been splinched,” she groaned, falling to the floor and holding her leg.

“Bloody hell,” Fred said, as George dashed around her suitcase to her side, dropping to his knees.

“Kim! It’s gonna be all right, where is it? You’re okay, where…” he slowed himself because Kim was now laughing, small and suppressed at first, and then full and bellowing as she released her leg and lay flat on the floor, rolling a little with the force of her laughter.

“Your face,” she managed to say between hearty laughs.

Realization drained the concern from George’s features, “Oh, you,” he scowled, leaning away from her. He shook his head as a smile forced its way onto his face.

“Okay, you got us,” Fred said, smiling approvingly, and holding out a hand for her to take as her laughter calmed. She reached out and grasped it so he could heave her off the floor.

“That was a good one, right?” Kim said, smiling giddily.

“Not bad,” Fred agreed and kissed her on the forehead.

“You’re lucky I don’t splinch you myself,” George said, nudging her playfully as he walked passed, aiming for the sofa.

“Oh please,” Fred said sardonically. “Judging from what we just witnessed, you’d be pressed to remove a single hair-,” he paused and Kim felt a tiny sharp pain on her scalp.

“Ow!” Looking up, Fred was holding one of her hairs over her head.

“-from her head,” he finished.

George didn’t seem to find this quite as funny. He pursed his lips, crossed his arms, and slouched into the sofa.

Fred laughed harshly at George’s reaction, letting go of Kim to round the couch and fully face his brother. “I mean, come on Georgie. Can’t be acting like that every time she stubs a toe, we might be facing _Voldemort_ soon. Only the brave will survive,” he said, now in a comically story tale voice, “and the cowardly will—”

“I don’t think it’s cowardly,” George said harshly, eyes darting up at Fred with some edge in them, “to want Kim, or anyone to be safe. You should really try it sometime; caring about someone besides yourself.” He stood and marched towards his bedroom.

“George,” Kim started to say pleadingly, but he cut her off in a mutter as he passed, throwing her a dark look.

“Nice joke, Kim.”

This deflated any objection she was going to give, and a moment later his door was shutting behind him.

“What’s _his_ problem,” Fred said, a little of the hurt making its way into his tone. The next moment he tried to cover it up. “Must still be shaken up over thinking you had a paper cut.”

Kim tightened her mouth and raised a brow at him. He didn’t look at her, merely dropped into the couch himself and picked up a deck of tarot cards. They were a tool some used for divination, but were also a household item used by most witches and wizards to play games with. Kim was sure the later was Fred’s intention, and as he splayed out a pattern of cards onto the cushion next to him Kim recognized as _Hole in Your Caldron,_ or _Caldron Hole_ for short, she rounded the couch and put her hands on her hips. _Hole in Your Caldron_ was a game played alone, so it was clear he’d meant this to be the end of the conversation.

“Fred,” she said, a bit irritably. He only glanced up at her with a lazy expression, and then flipped a card off the top of the deck. Kim wasn’t quite sure why, but anger flared up in her stomach. Perhaps it was fueled by guilt for leading to George’s upset. Perhaps it was because, when she’d first imagined playing the joke on the twins, she’d pictured it just about exactly as it had gone; George immediately springing to terrified action, and Fred, calm, if not a bit surprised, but overall underwhelmed. _Shouldn’t he have reacted more like George? Shouldn’t_ he _have dropped to his knees and tried to save me?_

“Did you know it was fake?” she asked, unable to keep the edge from her tone.

“Your _splinching_ … no, I didn’t know it was fake. I mean splinching’s totally possible, especially for someone new at apparating. Gave it away, though, when you started laughing and all. Not that I don’t think you’re mad, just not a masochist—”

“If you thought it was real too… wasn’t George’s reaction perfectly normal? Shouldn’t you _want_ to help me, if something bad happened to me.”

“Of _course_ I do.” He looked up at her with a frown and wrinkles around his eyes. Then his frown turned to a look of disgust. “You’re not going to turn a bad joke into a reason to be angry at me.” He looked back to his game, seeming intent to ignore her, if she would allow him. She would not.

“I’m not _turning_ it into a reason to be angry, Fred- You make it sound like I planned it all out with the _purpose_ of being angry at you or something.”

“Remember that bit I said about you being mad?”

His complete front of blasé made Kim want to scream. “Excuse me?” she said threateningly.

“Look, Kim. What exactly did I do wrong?”

“Well, you’re being an asshole right now, for starters.”

Fred shook his head. He kept looking down at his cards but he hadn’t played the one in his hand for some time. He shrugged and then said, plain and effortlessly, “Sorry.”

Kim made a sound of exasperation and disgust. She crossed her arms and look away. “All I’m saying, Fred, is you made fun of George for giving a shit about me. Shouldn’t you give a shit about me?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he yelled, startling Kim. He threw down his card as he stood. She inched a step back. She didn’t think she’d ever seen Fred yell. George, sure, but not calm, collected Fred.

“I don’t care now, is it?” he demanded. Kim didn’t answer. “May I remind you that less than a month ago, you were _dead_! Dead Kim! Where do you think that left me, why don’t you take a look at how things were for me then, and _then_ you can see who ruddy cares!”

“But that’s just it, you didn’t say- you didn’t say you missed me or anything—”

“Missed you? Of course I bloody well missed you. I shouldn’t have to say bollox for you to know I missed you, we’ve been together for _years_!”

“I know,” Kim said quietly. She didn’t agree, but she didn’t know how to tell him that now, as angry as he was. She thought he _should_ have to tell her how he felt, he _should_ be able to talk to her about anything. Was it her fault that he didn’t feel like he could?

“I’m sorry,” she said, though she didn’t feel sorry. She just felt deflated. Tired. “I didn’t mean to make you angry, I just feel bad because you made fun of him for showing that he cared, and now he—”

“ _You_ go talk to him, then! It was your lousy joke!”

“Fine,” she said sharply, and moved briskly around him. She banged on George’s bedroom door while she heard Fred behind her, tossing himself back into the couch. “George, can I come in?”

It was quiet for a moment as Kim pressed her ear to his door. Then the handle turned and the door opened, making her bow forward as the support she was leaning on swung away. She stumbled forward a small pace before she caught herself, leaning back because George was now very close to her. She looked up, apologetic for their accidental closeness. He just looked at her with gentle eyes.

“What do you want?” he said quietly.

“Nothing, I just… Well, can I come in?” He let a long breath out his nose and then stepped back from the door, allowing her entrance. The room was dark, illuminated only with a dull, bluish-grey from the curtains drawn over the cloudy morning outside. It made everything eerily silhouetted, including George as he shut his door and came to stand before Kim.

“Well?” he prompted, after she stared at him for probably too long.

“I-… Sorry. The joke was stupid, bad timing, poor taste…”

“No it wasn’t,” George said lightly, though she could just barley hear a tightness in his tone. She wished she could see his face clearer. He shrugged deeply and let his shoulders fall slack again. “It was funny, you don’t have anything to apologize for.”

“I guess I just… I feel bad, because Fred—”

“Don’t apologize for Fred. He’s not sorry, and I don’t expect him to be,” George said with a sigh, moving past her and collapsing onto his bed. He lay with one leg off the side, foot flat on the floor, and his wrist pressed against his forehead. Kim got a sudden, twisting urge to go to him, to lie down beside him. To wrap her arms around him and comfort him. Kiss him.

_What the hell are you doing?_ she thought as she stood in the center of the room, heart hammering in her chest. _I’m falling in love with George… But you can’t do that!... I think it’s too late…_ She cleared her throat and looked at the floor, trying to remember herself. She needed to answer, to say something, before the pull of him drew her across the room.

“I think he is sorry,” she said with great focus. “Fred, I mean… I think he just… well, you know him. He doesn’t know how to say sorry. Not when he’s _actually_ sorry.”

“I know,” George said plainly. “It’s okay.”

There was an awkward silence. “Right, well…” she cleared her throat. “I’ll see you later then, I just wanted to-… make sure you were okay.”

“Yep, fine,” he said a little briskly. Kim turned and opened the door. “And Kim,” he added hastily, stopping her. There was a pause and she turned back to see his dark figure sprawled on the bed, neck craning to look up at her. “Thanks. You don’t have to…” It didn’t seem like he was going to find the right word.

She smiled but her eyes turned down, warry and tired. “Yeah I do.” She turned back to the doorway and stepped through, shutting it behind her. When she looked to the couch, Fred was gone, card game abandon on the center cushion. He probably went down to the shop to get it ready to open. He was so much better at _doing_ then he was at words. And she loved that about him, didn’t she? Yes… It was just when he stopped _doing_ that things started to fall apart. She wasn’t sure at what point that had happened, but she couldn’t help the hopeless feeling that it was irreversible.

Over the next week, Kim tried not to think about George, which proved difficult since she was living with him. Still, with Fred near, things did get easier for a time, because she _did_ love Fred. She continued to convince herself that if she simply focused on loving Fred with all her heart, it would become impossible to love George too, and things could go back to simple.

“Fred, if I can’t get out of this house, I’m going to murder both of you,” Kim said to him across the kitchen island where they ate their meals.

“I’m working on it,” Fred said, smirking at her. He’d just bewitched her spoon to slide away from her every time she attempted to grab it, which had spurred on this aggressive statement. She hadn’t left the twin’s apartment, hadn’t even entered the _shop_ since her arrival over a week ago. That was because of the off chance someone recognized her face as the girl who had died on her way to Azkaban the month prior. She had been trying her hand at transfiguration, something to change her face just enough to be unrecognizable by other people, but so far she’d made no progress. Transfiguration had never been a strong suit. So, Fred and George had agreed to see what they could whip up in their shop, Fred agreeing eagerly due to the untapped market such a product would no doubt reach.

“Well work on it faster,” she retorted harshly, though she was mostly joking. Half joking anyway. She chucked a piece of cereal across the table at him, hitting him near the eye. He looked up at her slowly from his bowl of cereal and glared severely. With no warning he chucked forward his cereal bowl, launching the milk and grains combination at Kim and dousing her. George, who had been moving around the island to sit by Fred, snorted so hard with his mouth full, that milk came out his nose and spewed all over the floor. Kim gasped and blinked at Fred, disbelieving. George might’ve been dying; he was gasping with laughter and bent at the waist, holding his nose for fear of more milk spewing out.

“Funny! Real funny!” Kim said shrilly, standing and picking up her wand. She waved it at herself in the indignant hope to clean herself off. But the spell must’ve gone wrong, because instead of getting _rid_ of breakfast clinging to her hair, face, and torso, she merely exploded it off her, splattering the entire kitchen with cereal debris and milk. Fred, who’s laughter had started to ease, exploded with a belly laugh so intense he had to clutch his gut, and George actually collapsed onto his knees, banging the floor with his fists.

“Oh, damn it!” she grumbled, but a smile spread across her face despite herself. She started laughing along with the boys, realizing that at least now it was _their_ problem to clean up the mess, and they would no doubt be more capable than she. As their laughter slowed she stopped herself short and said sharply, “All right, all right! Clean this up before I do you next.” She pointed her wand and Fred menacingly. He snorted and stood, walking around the island, past George who was only just managing to get control of himself.

“Well then,” Fred said, putting his hands up in mock surrender and surprise. “You’ve sure got spunk… for a dead girl,” he added, smacking her lightly on the rear as he came to stand beside her.

“Knock it off,” she laughed, pushing him playfully as he drew out his wand. With an easy wave, the mess consolidated and then dove down the drain of the sink, gone. Then there was a knock at their door. It was harsh and loud, not the way Verity would’ve knocked if she needed the twins for something in the joke shop.

Fred and George looked at one another as George stood up off the floor.

“Who the hell…” Fred murmured as he crossed the room to the door. Kim tightened her grip on her wand. He opened the door a crack, and then the rest of the way.

“Oh, what brings you here?” he said, as Mad-Eye thunked into the room.

“You know it’s rude to apparate into someone’s house,” George said flatly.

“More rude to bring a tale of Death Eaters,” Mad-Eye retorted. Fred closed the door and came to stand beside Kim as Mad-Eye continued. “You said you wanted to be part of the Order, so I’m offering you a seat in the upcoming meeting.”

“Oh… thank you. When- where?”

“What’re we, pixie shit?” Fred said incredulously.

“We can only have so many,” Mad-Eye said. “One of you three can come, but only one.” His bulging blue eye swiveled around madly for a moment. “It’ll be held at my place tomorrow, 7 at night. Apparate to the front lawn and then knock. This is the password. Read it, and then burn it. That’s all I’ve got to say on the matter.” He handed Kim a small slip of parchment and then turned, thudded to the door and apparated as he was walking away, making Kim jump slightly with the start of it.

“Why’s it so certain _you’re_ the one that’s going?” Fred asked incredulously.

“Because I am the one that’s going,” she said severely. Fred raised his eyebrows and moved away as Kim turned her attention to the paper. She wondered if he was genuinely bothered by her sureness, but it was very simple to her; she was going to that meeting. Not only could she not stand to sit around with no way to help, but she also was a more crucial part of the defeat of Voldemort than most knew. She knew something critical that no one else did…

_Exploding Snaps_ , read the paper in a scribbled hand writing. She set the paper, folded, onto the counter and flicked her wand at it, saying “Incendio _”_. It lit fire and burnt up to ash.

“Little over the top, as usual,” George remarked. She was sure he was talking about Mad-Eye’s precautions.

Kim just lifted her eyebrows in assent. “I’m sure they’ll only get more intense as things go on. Now more than ever I suppose we should be grateful for that.”

The next night Kim prepared to leave. She kissed Fred on the cheek before she headed for the door, though she thought she could still detect notes of soreness over her going without him, or in place of him, as she was sure he saw it.

“Be careful. If you spot anything that makes you feel unsettled, apparate back here,” George said to her, standing beside the door.

“I will.”

He nodded, looking a little nervous. “You always follow your gut, you’re good at that,” he said in retreat, though it seemed he was assuring himself more than Kim. She smiled at him.

“I do, and I’ll be fine.” She winked as she said, “See you in a bit.” And then disappeared with a snap.

She was smiling as she arrived on the front yard of Alastar Moody’s house, picturing George’s startle when she apparated without warning. She marched through the dark, up the path to Mad-Eye’s front door. She knocked, collecting herself and trying to stand as tall as she could.

“You here for the game?” came a clear, male voice. At first Kim screwed up her face, bewildered by the question. Then it occurred to her.

“Exploding Snap.”

The door opened and Lupin was standing on the other side. “Kim?” he said, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“Let her in, Remus, don’t just stand there in the doorway,” Mad-Eye grunted from somewhere in the house. Kim gave a tight grin to Lupin as she came through the doorway past him. He shut the door behind her as Kim looked around. The house was oddly clean. She had expected piles of gadgets and papers rummaged through and liquor bottles. But it was almost obsessively clean, and while there were odd tools here and there, the house looked far more _normal_ then she would’ve thought.

“Alastor, did you invite Mrs. Shimmers, then?” Lupin pressed.

“Hi ‘ya, Kim,” Tonks said quietly between the men talking. Kim raised a hand at her as she passed through the hallway. There were sounds of more chatter coming from down the hall, where the rest of the meeting must’ve been gathered.

“You don’t think she got here by her own wits do you? Of course I invited her,” Mad-Eye said.

“She’s a little young, don’t you think?”

Kim was just hedging past them to follow Tonks, but now froze, looking back at Lupin. She found it a little insulting that he was talking about her as if she wasn’t there.

“No younger than you were, I think,” she said coolly.

“You haven’t even finished school yet, you shouldn’t be getting caught up in all this—”

“And I won’t be finishing school,” she said, with increased edge. “Because I already _am_ caught up in all this. If the main requirements to be a member of the Order are a want to stop Voldemort, being of age, and being willing to sacrifice your life for the Order’s cause, I think I qualify. Since I actually _did_ die to protect the Order’s secrets once before. You can trust that I’d do it again.” She surprised even herself with how powerfully these words came to her. She wondered for a brief moment if she even knew this person she described, the person she’d become. A witch who had crossed into the land of the dead and been spat back out. A witch who Voldemort considered important enough to have her captured and contained. A witch who, even with her right to be in the Order being question, had more responsibility placed on her shoulders by Dumbledore than any of them. The responsibility to ensure that Harry, were it not possible to save him, died in the end.

“Very well,” Lupin said after the long pause of silence that fell between them. “Let’s, to the meeting.” He gestured down the hall, so Kim turned and followed Mad-Eye toward the chatter. Through the doorway at the end of the hall there was a dining room with a long table surrounded by witches and wizards, some of whom Kim recognized from her time living in Sirius’s parent’s home, such as Kingsley Shacklebolt, and others who she didn’t.

“Let’s get started,” said Mad-Eye at the head of the table. Kim wonder, with Dumbledore dead, if Mad-Eye was now in charge of things. It certainly appeared so, though she doubted his appointment had been anything so formal as such. “As you all know, except maybe you Kim, the protective charm on Potter’s—”

“Aren’t you going to introduce our new member?” said Kingley. Kim smiled at him kindly, if not a bit shyly. Now in a room full of strangers her boldness was considerably thinned.

“Ah, er, right,” Mad-Eye grumbled, and gestured towards Kim roughly. “That’s Kim Shimmers. You may have read that she was dead in the papers. She’s not. But the ministry doesn’t know that, and it’s to be kept that way. She asked to join the Order, and I said she could.”

“What made you want to join, dear?” asked a kind looking woman.

“I was already sort of part of it, from the beginning- well, the _recent_ beginning,” she amended, realizing that some of the members might’ve been around since the _very_ beginning, since the time that Voldemort rose the first time. “I helped plant false information in the ministry for Dumbledore, to protect Sirius… And I was working with Dumbledore… very closely for the past year.” These were her qualifications, not her reasons, she realized. Her reasons were much darker; she, and only she, knew that Harry must die in order for the horcrux inside him to be extinguished. Unless she could find another way to destroy it. And furthermore, she was the only person in the Order, now that Dumbledore was gone, who knew about the Horcruxes at all. For these reasons she had wanted, _needed_ to join, if only to monitor the Order’s actions to insure they didn’t interfere with the true plan. But these reasons were secret.

“Right, so, as you can all now see, she’s well qualified,” Mad-Eye said, shooting a look at Lupin. “Can we continue to business now?” No one made to object. “Good. As I was saying, the protection on Potter’s muggle family’s house is timed to run out when he turns 17. This means we have until the end of the month to get Potter to a secure location, protected from Death Eaters who will no doubt try to nab him once he’s vulnerable.”

“We know all this, Moody,” said an old man down the table that Kim didn’t recognize. He had a white ring of hair around his head and a shiny bald spot on top. “What’s the point of this meeting?”

“I’m merely recapping,” grumbled Mad-Eye.

“But we have a plan in place, don’t we? So why—” began the kind looking witch.

“We _had_ a plan,” Mad-Eye interrupted a bit agitatedly. “The plan’s got to be scrapped.” He paused and looked uncharacteristically tired for a moment. He sat down in his seat for the first time and leaned against the headrest. “Pius Thicknesse is a Death Eater.”

To many of the others around the table, this appeared to mean something significant.

“How can that be?” someone demanded.

Mad-Eye ignored their shock. “He’s made it so any who tries to gain access to Potter’s house will be sent to Azkaban. They’ve got trackers all over the bloody house, we can’t use the Floo Network, can’t place a Portkey, can’t apparate. He’s framed it as protection for Potter against You-Know-Who, but really it’s trapping him there.”

“If we can’t get him out of the house before he becomes of age, he’ll be taken for sure by Death Eaters,” said the woman desperately.

“Exactly,” agreed Lupin.

“So we’ve got to come up with another plan,” Tonks said.

“So… who’s got ideas?” Mad-Eye said.

“Couldn’t we just sneak him out of the house briefly? Then apparate?” someone suggested.

“Won’t work,” Mad-Eye shook his head. “He’s underage which means any magic performed around him will be traced. The ministry will know there’s an attempt to get him out. With the way things have become, if the Ministry knows, You-Know-Who knows.”

“So we’ve just got to do it without magic,” Kim said, knowing it was probably obvious, but still she wanted to impart _something._ Just sitting there silently made her feel she was proving Lupin’s point; she was too young, too inexperienced.

“That’s right,” Mad-Eye said, pointing at Kim in a gesture. “So we fly.”

“We fly Potter all the way to the Weasley’s,” said Kingsley.

“Where are the Weasley’s?” asked someone down the table.

“Couldn’t be here. I’ll bring them information on what we decide,” Mad-Eye said shortly.

“What’s to stop them from ambushing us out in the open?” objected Kingsley. “They know where we’re trying to take Potter, or at minimum, will be able to make an educated guess.”

“You’re right, so what’s the suggestion,” Mad-Eye pressed.

“A decoy?” Tonks said.

Mad-Eye turned the thought over in his head, nodding vaguely. “A decoy…” he mused. “So we send potter one way, and decoys the other way. We’ll have to set up multiple drop locations, to make it convincing that any of the decoys could be the real one. Put protections up on the houses, everything.

“We’ll all have to be disguised as Potter,” said the balding man. “In case there _is_ an attack, they won’t be able to tell straight away who’s the decoy group.”

“Some polyjuice potion can take care of that,” Mad-Eye said. “I’ll make sure we have the brew for the night. The 27th work for everyone?” There were no objections. “Good. Now… Who’s going to go? We’ll need a decently large number. I want at least six groups. Seven would be better. So, all willing raise your hands.”

The majority of hands went up.

“Good. We’ll need more, especially since Diggle and Jones have to escort the Dursleys to safety, so they can’t be decoys. And others of us will be preoccupied as well. But the numbers won’t be the problem. We’ll be getting the information out about who will be involved and the locations to be used on a later date. We’ve already been gathered for too long.” He looked at his watch and stood. It hadn’t been that long, but nobody commented on Mad-Eye’s odd feelings about their time spent in the meeting, so Kim assumed it had something to do with defense against the dark arts that Kim didn’t understand.

“Moody,” she said, sidling past others to get to him. “I’m sure Fred and Geroge’ll want to be part of this. They wanted to be here.”

“As I’m sure most of the Weasley’s will,” Mad-Eye agreed. “If you tell them about this meeting, make sure it’s in a safe place,” he warned, and then turned to speak with someone else as the rest of the Order filed out. Kim saw herself outside of the house and then apparated back to the twin’s. She explained the goings on. All that was left was to wait for further instruction.


	4. Killing Curse

Chapter 4

Killing Curse

“It’s very uncomfortable, that,” Fred remarked, flying evenly alongside Kim, hundreds of feet above English suburbia. He was eyeing the thestral she was riding, though to him it would appear as thin air.

“They’re not much less unsettling to look at, trust me,” she called back to him. They were following a group of witches and wizards, led by Mad-Eye Moody, moving in formation toward number 4 Privet Drive. It wasn’t quite Harry’s birthday yet, and from what she’d gathered, he wouldn’t exactly be expecting them.

“You know we thought you were insane that day, the day we met,” George said on her other side. Kim remembered when she had seen the thestrals pulling the coaches, her realization that other’s _couldn’t_ see them.

“If anything it cemented your interest in me,” she said wryly, holding on tightly to the thestral as they prepared to descend. “You two have a tendency towards the strange and eccentric.”

“I can’t argue it,” Fred said with a shrug. They all drifted quickly lower until they were landing in the back yard of a decently sized, cookie-cutter house that looked very much the same as all the rest on the lane.

_So this is where Harry lives_ , Kim thought as she looked up at the very standard home. As if in response Harry came tumbling through the back door with excitement and hast.

“Harry!” said the twins, along with some others who rushed forward to greet him. Kim swung her leg over the back of her thestral and slowly approached Harry as if waiting in line to shake the hand of the prime minister. She greeted him shyly. Somehow his and the other’s presence in her return from the dead felt oddly personal, like they had seen her at her most vulnerable, and she them. Perhaps that was what death did to those surrounding it. It had an odd, morbid way of stripping past all the formalities and leaving only the raw, beating heart of a person, honest and trembling. It was difficult to go back to casual niceties after that.

“Change of plan,” rumbled Mad-Eye as he swung past Kim, startling her from her reverie. “Let’s get undercover before we talk you through it.” He was talking to Harry, though he didn’t wait for a response before he pushed past, heading for the door to the house. They all filled into the immaculate kitchen of the Dursleys. It looked as though no one had ever lived there at all, and the cup full of wooden spoons and knives in the rack were just for show in a model home. The entire group assembled, each of them waiting for the mission to get Harry to safety to begin. Each of them willing to sacrifice their life…

_Harry is not going to like this_ , Kim realized. In total they were Ron, Hermione, Fred, Geroge, Bill, Mr. Weasley, Mad-Eye, Tonks, Lupin, Fleur, Kingsley, Hagrid, Mundungus, and of course, Kim, who was certain Harry would not be keen on letting any of their party come anywhere close to a move of self-sacrifice for him, even Mundungus who Kim knew he wasn’t quite particular for.

“Harry, guess what?” said Tonks from her perch on top of the washing machine. Kim was trying to hear their conversation from between Fred and George who were muttering jokes that mocked the Dursley’s in every way imaginable, from their tight wad immaculateness, to their blatant hatred of magic.

“You got married?” Harry yelped, looking between Tonks and Lupin. Kim of course had already heard this news through the grape vine.

“I’m sorry you couldn’t be there, Harry, it was very quiet.”

“That’s brilliant, congra—

“All right, all right, we’ll have time for a cozy catch-up later!” roared Mad-Eye over the hubbub, and silence fell in the kitchen. Mad-Eye dropped the sack he’d had slung on his shoulder and turned to Harry. “As Debalus probably told you, we had to abandon Plan A. Pius Thicknesse has gone over, which gives us a big problem. He’s made it an imprisonable offense to connect this house to the Floo Network, place a portkey here, or apparate in or out. All done in the name of your protection, to prevent You-Know-Who getting in at you. Absolutely pointless, seeing as your mother’s charm does that already. What he’s really done is to stop you getting out of here safely.

“Second problem,” he continued, “You’re underage, which means you’ve still got the trace on you.” It was clear Harry didn’t understand.

“I don’t—”

“The trace, the trace!” said Mad-Eye impatiently. “The charm that detects magical activity around under-seventeens, the way the Ministry finds out about underage magic! If you, or anyone around you, casts a spell to get you out of here, Thicknesse is going to know about it, and so will the Death Eaters.”

“What degree of batty do you think Harry’s going to get when he finds out the new plan?” Fred muttered to George, though it was impossible not to hear him since his mouth was only just above her right ear.

“Oh, to the highest degree, I’d say,” Kim muttered back. Mad-Eye was still explaining the plan to him, though it was clear they hadn’t yet gotten to the part where Harry objected stubbornly, saying how _no one_ could risk their lives for _his sake._

“Perhaps he’ll go _full_ batty,” George said, leaning toward Kim to be closer to Fred. “Perhaps he _should_.”

“Right, could fly himself right out of here,” Fred agreed conversationally, as if the suggestion were as plane as turning the kettle on for tea.

“The one thing we’ve got on our side,” Mad-Eye was saying, “is that You-Know-Who doesn’t know we’re moving you tonight. We’ve leaked a fake trail to the Ministry: They think you’re not leaving until the thirtieth. However, this is You-Know-Who we’re dealing with—”

“Thought it was the ice cream man we were dealing with,” Fred muttered, making Kim click her tongue against the roof of her mouth and look up at him pointedly.

“The degrading quality of frozen goods is a travesty—”

“Would you hush,” she hissed, batting at him as he smiled triumphantly over her. She tried to listen to what was going on.

“You’ll be going to Tonks’s parents,” Mad-Eye said to Harry. “Once you’re within the boundaries of the protective enchantments we’ve put on their house, you’ll be able to use a Portkey to the Burrow. Any questions?”

“Er, yes,” said Harry. “Maybe they won’t know which of the twelve secure houses I’m heading for at first, but won’t it be sort of obvious once… fourteen of us fly off toward Tonks’s parents’?”

“Ah,” said Mad-Eye, “I forgot to mention the key point. Fourteen of us won’t be flying to Tonks’s parents’. There will be seven Harry Potters moving through the skies tonight, each of them with a companion, each pair heading for a different safe house.”

“Here it comes,” George goaded quietly. Kim watched with crossed arms.

“No!” Harry said loudly. Kim could feel Fred and George looking at one another over top her. “No way!”

“I told them you’d take it like this,” said Hermione with a hint of complacency.

“If you think I’m going to let six people risk their lives—”

“—because it’s the first time for all of us,” Ron said.

“This is different, pretending to be me—”

“Well, none of us really fancy it, Harry,” said Fred earnestly. “Imagine if something went wrong and we were stuck as specky, scrawny gits forever.”

The humor did not seem to reach Harry, though it did make Kim form a small smile and roll her eyes. She pushed off the counter with a bounce, as if knowing it would soon be time for her to intervein.

“You can’t do it if I don’t cooperate, you need me to give you some hair for the polyjuice potion.”

“Well, that’s the plan scuppered,” said George flatly. Kim didn’t wait for this to go on. It was clear, as she’d known before they’d even begun, Harry was not going to agree to this. So she stepped casually forward as Harry turned to face Mad-Eye to continue his argument. She spotted a hair or two floating off on their own, separated from the rest by frizz and general messiness. She grabbed and yanked.

“Ow!”

“Problem solved, decided it for you,” Kim said, and handed the hairs hastily to Mad-Eye.

“Sensible girl,” he muttered, taking the hairs.

“Kim-” Harry said through gritted teeth and then collected himself a moment. Then he looked frustrated, and then he just looked desperate. “But this is mad! There’s no need to—”

“No need!” snarled Mad-Eye. “With You-Know-Who out there and half the Ministry on his side? Potter, if we’re lucky he’ll have swallowed the fake bait and he’ll be planning to ambush you on the thirtieth, but he’d be mad not to have a Death Eater or two keeping an eye out, it’s what I’d do. They might not be able to get at you or this house while your mother’s charm holds, but it’s about to break and they know the rough position of the place. Our only chance is to use decoys. Even You-Know-Who can’t split himself into seven.”

Kim raised a brow at this and caught Harry glancing at Hermione, but he quickly regulated himself.

“So, let’s on with it,” said Mad-Eye, and without waiting for Harry’s real assent, more his lack of vocalized displeasure, dropped the hairs into the flask of polyjuice potion. The muddy liquid began to froth and churn, and in an instant turned completely bright gold.

“Ooh, you look much tastier than Crabbe and Goyle, Harry,” said Hermione, before catching sight of Ron’s raised eyebrows.

“Hey-oh,” sang Fred and George together.

“Oh, you know what I mean,” Hermione insisted, blushing. “Goyle’s potion looked like bogies.”

 “Right then, fake Potters line up over here, please,” said Mad-Eye. Kim moved to the spot along with Fred, George, Fleur, Ron, and Hermione. Mad-Eye came by to each of them, handed them a small cup and pored the viscous potion into it.

“All together, then…” he said, nodding at them. Kim pursed her lips and tilted back the cup without breathing. She was expecting something terrible but rather the taste was strongly of peaches and a honey-mead. Kim made a point not to make a sound of approval to the taste, as she hadn’t missed the innuendo jokes Fred and George had been making.

Immediately her face began to feel odd. At first it was just a tingling, and then it was a squeezing contorting of her facial muscles. Her entire body was alight with uncomfortable spasms. Looking around, no one else was alarmed, though their faces were bubbling and their hair was changing color and length. Fred and George sank by a few inches and their hair grew thick and messy, and then black. In a moment there were two Harrys before her, without glasses and with clothes that didn’t quite fit.

“Wow,” they said, looking at one another, “we’re identical!” Kim snorted and shook her head.

“I dunno, though, I think I’m still better-looking,” said Fred, examining his reflection in the kettle.

“That’s because it’s always been in your head, mate,” George quipped.

“Those whose clothes are a bit roomy, I’ve got smaller here,” said Mad-Eye, indicating the first sack, “and Vice versa. Don’t forget the glasses, there’s six pairs in the side pocket. And when you’re dressed there’s luggage in the other sack.”

Kim was too busy scooting Fred to the side so she too could look at her reflection in the tea kettle. The oddest part, in the first few moments, was the new vantage point. Harry was a few inches taller than Kim, so she got the same sense of odd superiority one got when they put on heels, simply without the toe cramps.

“Come on, Kim, suit up,” said either Fred or George, she wasn’t certain anymore since they both looked like Harry. She followed them to the sack where all the other Harrys were fishing out harry sized clothes and spectacles. Her vision was quite a bit blurry, though she had thought at first it was a side effect of having just resized her eyeballs. But then of course she realized, with Harry’s eyes now hers, she would _need_ spectacles.

“This is just too odd,” Kim muttered, looking at her boyish hands. They weren’t long and dainty with spindly fingers anymore, but quite boxy with nails clipped down to the bed. Having such bare fingertips felt odd as she pressed them tip to tip.

She grabbed her set of clothes and proceeded a few feet away to change. She had at least prepared for this moment a little bit, having known she would be turning into Harry by the end of the night. Instead of her usual girl underwear she had elected for a pair of short boxers, barrowed from George, to wear under her sweat pants. She was thankful now. The last thing she wanted was to catch a glimpse of her crotch as she tried to dress… of _Harry’s_ crotch. It was terrible enough to be able to feel something between her legs.

“Being a boy is… uncomfortable,” she remarked as she delicately rearranged the downstairs furniture as to not pinch so terribly, trying the whole while not to think of what she was touching. She put on the new shirt after the pants. “A lot less stress on the lower back, though,” she added, twisting around to stretch her spine. Having no curves of extra weight lifted the burden off her back and made her feel much lighter, bonier.

Lastly Kim placed the glasses over her eyes and suddenly the world was visible to her again. She collected the rucksack and owl cage, containing a stuffed snowy owl that was even enchanted to blink and shift about every now and then.

“Good,” said Mad-Eye, as at last seven dressed, bespectacled, and luggage-laden Harrys faced him. “The pairs will be as follows: Mundungus and Kim, you’ll be traveling with me, by broom—”

“Why’m I with you?” grunted Mundungus. Kim was a little weary too, especially the bit about being on a broom.

“Because you’re the one that needs watching,” growled Mad-Eye. “Kim, you’ll be riding with Mundungus on a broom, and I’ll be flying beside. All right?” His inflection implied that he was truly asking whether or not this plan was all right with her, not merely whether she understood. If she were being honest, she wasn’t at all comfortable with the idea of Mundungus, the scummy mouth breather, sitting crouch to back with her. She didn’t like it one bit, but then again, this was Harry’s body not her own, and something about the idea felt comforting, like Harry would be sitting between herself and Mundungus the whole way, keeping him honest. And Mad-Eye would be there, and having _any_ partner to fly with was better than none, in her case.

“Yeah, it’s fine. I’m not much of a flyer…”

“Which is why we’ve pared you with Mundungus. Thing is, Kim,” he stepped forward and glanced around while the rest of the group was chatting about being in Harry’s body. He was insuring no one else was listening, “I’m suspecting he’ll come after us, if he manages to get word. He’ll assume Potter to be with the best fighter and riding on a broom. That’s why I’ve set you up this way… to be the strongest scented bait for him…”

“…Voldemort?”

“Yes,” Mad-Eye said gruffly. “Out of all the Potters, I’m expecting you’ll be in the greatest danger. That’s why I ask if you’re up for it.”

“Of course I’m up for it,” she answered immediately. Whether she truly was or not was an entirely different mater. She swallowed hard and reminded herself that she’d died once before, and it hadn’t been so bad. The idea didn’t comfort at all, though, especially surrounded by all her loved ones. Those she considered her family. As her eyes landed on Harry she remembered what she’d learned months ago; that Harry was her true family, by blood, though he didn’t even know it… she couldn’t leave them all now. She had to survive.

“Good girl,” Mad-Eye said. “I figured you’d say that. Got more spark than a fire crab.” Kim smiled sheepishly at that as Mad-Eye turned to the rest of the group. “Listen up! Next group; Arthur and Fred—

“I’m George,” said the twin at whom Mad-Eye was pointing. “Can’t you even tell us apart when we’re Harrry?”

“Sorry, George—”

“I’m only yanking your wand, I’m Fred really—”

“Enough messing around!” snarled Mad-Eye. “The other one—George or Fred or whoever you are—you’re with Remus. Miss Delacour—”

“I’m taking Fleur on a thestral,” said Bill. “She’s not that fond of brooms.”

Fleur walked over the Bill and gave him a dopey, sloppy look that was side splittingly funny playing across Harry’s features. Bill even looked a little put off at her, though he tried not to show it. Kim restrained a laugh. If it weren’t for the serious nature of what she’d just been told, she was certain she wouldn’t have been able to contain herself.

“Miss Granger,” Mad-Eye continued, “with Kingsley, again by thestral.”

“Which leaves you and me, Ron!” said Tonks brightly, knocking over a mug tree as she waved at him.

“An’ you’re with me, Harry. That all right’?” said Hagrid, looking a little anxious. “We’ll be on the bike, brooms an’ thestrals can’t take me weight, see. Not a lot o’ room on the seat with me on it, though, so you’ll be in the sidecar.”

“That’s great,” said Harry, but Kim could see the tightness around his eyes.

“Like I was telling Ms. Shimmers, we think the Death Eaters will expect you to be on a broom,” said Mad-Eye, who seemed to guess how Harry was feeling. “Snape’s had plenty of time to tell them everything about you he’s never mentioned before, so if we do run into any Death Eaters, we’re betting they’ll choose one of the Potters who look at home on a broomstick. All right then,” he went on, tying up the sack with the fake Potters’ clothes in it and leading the way back to the door, “I make it three minutes until we’re supposed to leave. No point locking the back door, it won’t keep the Death Eaters out when they come looking… Come on…”

They all followed him out into the back yard. Kim looked up at the dark sky, cloudy as any English night, but not enough that it foreboded rain.

“Kim?” asked a Harry with another Harry just behind him, speaking to a third Harry who looked at them a bit bewildered at first.

“No, Hermione.”

“Right, Kim?” he asked Kim.

“Fred?” Both the twins laughed at the same time, assuring her of their identity.

“Bonkers, this,” remarked George.

“Yeah…” Fred agreed, looking over Kim’s shoulder at something and then back to her. “Not too keen about you and Mundungus.”

“I thought you trusted him,” Kim said, referring to the fact that they’d done business with him before.

Fred shrugged. “As far as I can throw him. Never needed more than that before now. Never needed to put my life in his hands.”

“Well my life _won’t_ be in his hands. Mad-Eye’ll be there.”

“Still. Won’t you be one of the biggest targets?” said George. “Since you’ll be on a broom _and_ be with an auror?”

Kim shrugged, though that was precisely what Mad Eye had said.

“Why would he want you for the most dangerous position?” Fred pressed.

“I don’t know, Fred. Because he knew I’d do it, willingly. And I am willing. Besides, with all the precautions we’ve taken, everything is going to be _fine.”_

Fred pursed his lips and the expression looked all wrong on Harry’s face. “Yeah…”

“Just be careful, Kim. Do as Mad-Eye tells you. Including run, if you have to,” George said, worriedly.

“I will. Don’t worry.”

“All right then,” called Mad-Eye over the crowd. “Everyone ready, please; I want us all to leave at exactly the same time or the whole point of the diversion’s lost.”

“Be safe,” Kim bade the twins. Fred looked down at her and clasped her shoulder in his hand.

“I’d kiss you, but not sure how Harry’d feel about it,” he said with a wry smile that could only belong to Fred, even though it was on Harry’s face now. _Harry, my cousin._

“I’d really rather you didn’t,” she said with a mix of genuine nervousness and amusement. His smile widened and he gave her shoulder another squeeze.

“See you at home,” he said, letting her go. George looked at her as they both made to mount their brooms and Mundungus approached her.

“Don’t do anything reckless,” he said

“Could say the same to you.”

And with that they were paired off in their own groups, and Kim was eyeing the broom space behind were Mundungus sat hunched, uncomfortably. She sighed in forfeit and swung her leg over, putting her arms very uncomfortably around Mundungus.

“Don’t like this any more ‘n you,” he grumbled.

“Good luck, everyone,” shouted Mad-Eye before Kim had the chance to answer Mundungus, not that she knew what to say. “See you all in about an hour at the Burrow. On the count of three. One… two… _three_!”

Mundungus pushed off the ground, making Kim’s whole body go tight and clasp onto him, all discomfort forgotten for her fear of slipping from the broom. The motorbike Harry and Hagrid road in gave a loud roar and lurched into the air. They all began to angle upwards into the sky, soaring higher and higher, leaving the ground far behind.

“You two’ll follow me, clear?” Mad Eye said. It occurred to Kim she had no idea where they were going, or how to get there. Mundungus nodded tersely and followed a bit behind and beside Mad Eye. Kim slowly began to feel less tense, her body finding a comfortable balance and remembering what little she did know about flying. The night was eerily quiet, or perhaps the wind in her ears was just too loud to hear much else. And then there was a cry of distress.

Kim looked around quickly from behind Mundungus’s back, but it only took her a brief instant to realize what was the alarm. Up ahead, out of seemingly nowhere, at least 30 hooded and cloaked figures had appeared, forming a great circle around the Order which had barley had a chance to spread out from Privat Drive. Before Kim had fully had a chance to comprehend what was happening, chaos ensued. Screams were stifled as blazes of green shot in every direction. She ducked instinctively behind Mundungus. And then they were moving, fast, darting through the air. She looked up, and Mad-Eye was nowhere in sight.

“Where are you going?” she screamed, ducking once more to narrowly avoid a spell hurled at her. She needed to take out her wand but her hands were wrapped around Mundungus in an iron grip. She couldn’t force herself to pry free a hand while he was speeding through the air, liable to turn at any moment.

“Don’ ya’ see what’s goin’ on! I’m getting out of here!” he yelled, panicked.

“No! We’ve got to stay with Mad-Eye, we’ve got to stick to the plan—”

“Suit yourself,” he yelled, and wrenched himself forward on the broom, prying Kim’s finger’s off him in a jerking motion. Kim let out a yelp and flailed, feeling the flipping sensation in her stomach of being set off balance in a very high place. With a loud _snap_ that resonated in her ears, Mundungus was gone, and Kim reeled back as the broom jutted up from the release of weight. She yelled, careening backwards and just barely managing to wrap one of her sweaty palms around the broom stick. She leaned forward, over correcting and starting to fly downward. A hooded figure on a broom swooped to be just before her and shot a spell in her direction. She swiveled to the left and nearly lost her balance. She clung to the broom with all her might, no matter how sporadic she flew. But the hooded figure was on her tail now, and she was alone.

She looked around the orb of fighting going on all around her. She couldn’t spot Mad-Eye, and everything was so dark with blasts of light searing her eyes, making it impossible to see the details of anyone. Another spell hissed past her head, making her look back to her broom. It had probably only missed her due to the unpredictable trajectory she was flying.

“You’re _mine_ Potter!” screamed a man’s voice as she heard another spell blast from his wand tip. He was directly in her wake, and though she tried to dart to the side, the spell caught her in the shoulder. It paralyzed her in the spot, her limbs freezing up and making flying a broom, or staying stable on one, impossible. She started to teeter to the side, but was caught by the claw grip of the Death Eater.

_This is it,_ she thought, eyes as wide and darting as a doe, ensnarled by the wolf. _I failed. I’m dead. But at least they think I’m Harry. Maybe it will buy the rest of them more time._

The man magically tied her wrists together, holding her steady on the broom where she was still perched precariously, frozen, though she could feel her body starting to thaw out. He hoisted her onto his own broom and left hers behind, moving to leave the fight. Her limbs fell limp as the previous spell faded away. She was now only dead weight, no longer a statue. Her head rest lifelessly against his shoulder.

Peering hard into the corner of her eye, she was able to see the fight beyond. There were two Harrys accompanied by two other men. Lupin? Mr. Weasly? Or was that Kingsley?  They had already made it out of the throng of fighting and must’ve been heading to their destination, but now froze. One of the Harry’s darted strait for where she was, being carried away by a Death Eater. The other Harry called out to him, though Kim couldn’t quite make out what he said. The Harry coming after her turned for only a brief second before darting off, faster than before.

A blast of red light left his wand tip before he was close enough for the Death Eater to hear. It hit him in the face just as he was turning to see the source of the light, wand at the ready. He was tossed off the broom and Kim felt herself beginning to slip from the stick as well, nothing but a ragdoll. But then she collided, very hard, with something fleshy. It changed her directory from down to sideways, and then slowed her, arms embracing her.

“Are you all right? Kim?” came Harry’s voice, frantic. But it wasn’t Harry, she was sure.

“Fr… Fred,” she managed to mutter, but it barely made a sound. Still he smiled down at her gently. _Gently? This isn’t Fred._

“Close,” he said wryly. _George?_ But she didn’t have the muscle control to get her mouth to say the name. He was flying them closer to the ground, a small park beneath them and a thick throng of trees available for hiding and recollecting themselves. But they were being followed.

Kim saw it before George, the hooded figure with black cloak billowing in the wind as they zoomed towards what looked like two Harrys.

“Uh-mm!” she groaned, looking wide eyed at the approaching figure. They were just about to grace the top of the trees when a dim light that was impossibly fast darted from the end of the figure’s wand.

“Ag-uh!” George cried, and they swooped sideways, hitting the top of a tree. This caused them to lose grip of the broom entirely and they went tumbling. Branches scrapped Kim’s face and limbs and she squeezed her eyes shut tight, unable to brace herself for the impact of the hard ground. When she met it, her arm was underneath her body, and her head slammed against the dirt, sending a thundering into her skull. Her eyes swam and little floating lights filled the darkness of her shut eyes as she gasped for air that seemed to be vacuumed away. She heard someone landing, on two feet, very near to her.

She opened her eyes to a frantic bulge, searching for the source of the sound. There was a pair of feet a few yards from her, shrouded by a black cloak that dusted along the ground. Her breathing started to accelerate. She could hear George somewhere behind her, panting and grunting as though he were trying to suppress himself but was in great pain. _Get up Kim, you’ve got to get up_ , she urged, but her limbs would only jitter uncontrollably at her command. Another figure swooped down, almost silently until the pads of the pale feet touched the earth. He wore no shoes, and his toes were so bone-white she wondered if he wasn’t a skeleton. Billowing black smoke dissipated around him.

“Good work, Severus,” said a snake like voice, high and hissing. _It’s him. It’s Voldemort._ The churning in her stomach at his dark presence was confirmation. She felt she might’ve vomited were it not for her bodies inability to constrict muscle. Instead she merely twitched on the ground, unable to look at her approaching adversaries, and unable to flee, her stomach rolling inside her. Her body was as good as a corps.

“Is this him? Is this the one? Let us see—”

But he was cut off by the sound of an aerial approach. A shock of light sent the two wizards away from one another in a forceful blast. A third pair of feet, clothed in brown, men’s business shoes, climbed from their perch and stood just before Kim, a broom dropping by their side.

“Ah, Remus,” said Voldemort, sounding pleased, “come to face the same fate as your old friends. I’m sure they’ll greet you with open arms.” He blocked a bullet of light as Lupin cast a spell.

“Where’s George?” Lupin asked over his shoulder, as he blocked a returning blow.

“Don’t know-” she managed to grunt. Snape was returning from where he’d been knocked away and soon Lupin would be out numbered, and certainly outmatched. _I have to get up. I have to get up now._ She inched her hands up to lay flat against the ground on either side of her chest, her face and lips pressed into the dirt. She pushed and her weak and numb limbs did as she instructed, though in a wobbly and unsure fashion. “Near,” she grunted as she got to her knees.

“Severus,” instructed Voldemort as he blasted Lupin with three spells, rapid fire. Lupin blocked them before Kim could even count them. “Go finish the job.” Kim looked up at his snake like face in time to see him bob his head toward the direction George had fallen.

“Leave him alone,” she warned, wobbling to her feet.

“Possible he’s already dead. It’ll only take a moment,” Snape replied, walking behind Voldemort toward the trees were George must lie.

“Leave him alone!” she cried, still trying to gain her baring’s from behind Lupin who sent out a bath of fire to Voldemort’s feet. He put it out with a gust of wind that made Kim stumble back as she groped for her wand.

“You _must_ be the real Potter,” said Voldemort. “Who else is so stupidly valiant?”

“Leave him alone!” she screamed, voice ripping against her unresponsive vocal cords, causing the words to sound strangled. She managed to raise her wand toward Voldemort, Snape was already out of sight. She couldn’t get her feet to move, she was barley balancing on them. They were completely numb, unfeelable.

Voldemort let out a high, wining laugh as he blocked another curse.

“Lupin, go after George, please! I can’t make it!”

“And leave you—”

“Please! He won’t kill me, not yet. I’m the chosen one. He wants all to see,” she reassured him. She wasn’t at all sure that this would work, but she was desperate.

“How touching,” Voldemort said, lowing his wand for a moment, mocking sympathy. Then he blasted a bolt of green at Lupin when he was looking at Kim. She flicked her raised wand and blocked it. She could taste the killing curse in the air as it bounced off her shield.

“Go!” she begged.

Lupin seemed to slowly understand that she was pretending to be Harry in the hopes it would keep Voldemort distracted. Hesitantly he backed away and ran into the woods, shooting spells that did nothing to Voldemort as he did. It didn’t matter. Voldemort cared only for Harry.

Kim knew George wasn’t far. If he got there soon enough to apprehend Snape, he would be back in seconds. She just had to last that long.

“Stupify,” she uttered, the spell rolling off her wand easily, and blocked just as easily. Voldemort was still smiling at her in a way that made her skin crawl.

“Such a foolish boy you are. Go ahead, kill me! I know you’d like to,” he said, holding out his arms in a taunt. But Kim, like Harry, had never used such a spell before. Could she ever utter such words on her tongue? _Avada Kedavra…_

As she heard the sounds of fighting coming from just on the other side of the throng of trees, saw the lights, she knew she might have to. And she could. She felt more sure as the familiar taste of a dark evil settled in the back of her jaw, a sensation she had felt poisoning Harry for years. She could kill. She could kill Voldemort anyway, she could end this whole thing. The hatred bubbling up in her stomach formed from the writhing of her insides, and it no longer made her feel sick. It made her feel powerful.

Voldemort laughed again, taking her pause as forfeit. He raised his wand over his head to point down at Kim as he approached. She couldn’t move, and in an instant he was there, eyes boring into hers, and hers back into his. The hate in her stomach started to choke her and she stopped breathing it seemed, fingers strangling her wand. He reached forward and pressed his first finger and thumb against her cheeks on either side, squeezing her face and forcing her head upwards.

“You really have no idea what an absolute fool you are.”

“Neither do you,” she growled, and though it was still Harry’s voice, it sounded nothing like him. It was deep and cut out of her throat, dripping with loathsome intentions. “Because I’m not Harry.”

And then all the vile swirlings inside her burst from her wand, easily and purposefully, her wand an extension of herself in that moment more than ever before. Green swirling light illuminated Voldemort’s features for an instant before he staggered back, twisting as he did, moving fast, almost fretfully. She had made him do that. She had made him run. It only fed her writhing.

He turned his head up at her from where he had stumbled, eyes shocked but alive. He had blocked the curse but the wide-eyed look he gave her now was well worth it, even if she died for it. Again, without thinking or deciding, she raised her wand hand and cut the sky with it, another green billowing bolt flying at him. He blocked it too, standing more properly now to face her.

“Well,” he said, impressed, his carful smile back in place. “I don’t know who you are, girl, but I must say I’m impressed. The _killing curse_. And so meaningfully. So passionate.” He breathed in through his nose in a tantalized fashion, closing his eyes and lowering his wand an inch. She shot another curse at him and he flicked it away, opening his eyes wide. They were the blood red she knew so well. “I can _smell_ it. Yes, so ripe with hatred. You could harness it. I could teach you.”

“Stay away from me!” she cried, her face crumpling with both desperation and wrath.

“I was mistaken, my Lord,” came Snape’s voice as he plunged from the darkness. A bolt of light passed his head and he barley dodged it. His mask was removed, and he was bleeding from his cheek. “The real Potter is not here—”

“I know,” he said plainly. Then he turned his blood red gaze, the source of so many nightmares, back on Kim as she panted. She was beginning to feel sick again as the adrenaline of before wore off. “Don’t forget what I said, it’s an open invitation. There is always a place for such vibrant youth at my table.” And with that he and Snape were nothing but a snap and the rustle of billowing fabric.


	5. Unmeasurable

Chapter 5

Unmeasurable

In the following silence Kim could hear nothing over the crashing of her heart in her ears. She clutched her stomach and bent at the waist, breathing in heavy to try and control herself. _I’m okay. I’m okay. Voldemort is gone. For now…_

_We need to get out of here._

Her eyes snapped open again and she staggered forward. She could now hear the sounds of a sloppy approach, more than one pair of feet, and neither of them very graceful.

“George!” Kim breathed as Lupin came stumbling into the clearing with a broom in hand and George, in his true form, hung over his shoulder. “Is he all right?” Then he tilted into the moonlight. Kim didn’t gasp, because she couldn’t breath. George’s head was hung, slumped to the side, and appeared to be wholly supported by Lupin. The side of his head was covered in a shiny dark liquid. It coated his hair, dripping down his neck, blossoming in his shirt.

“Take my arm,” panted Lupin. “We need to get him back. We’re far enough from any underage that there won’t be a trace, so there’s no point in trying to catch the port key. We’ll apparate.”

“Can you take the both of us?” Kim asked, grabbing his arm. He didn’t answer, but rather sucked them all away into black abyss and then popped back into existence, feet pressed against long, bent grass and soft, moist earth.

Harry and Ginny were there, running over to them, and Mrs. Weasly was just behind them.

“Harry, thank god you’re all right,” Kim breathed as Harry rushed forward and lifted George’s legs, helping Lupin to carry him into the house. They moved him through the kitchen and into the sitting room, laying him on the sofa. With the light of indoors the blood was vibrantly red, and it was clear that George was barely hanging on to consciousness. She bent down by his side as Mrs. Weasley hurried over with a box of herbs.

Kim put a hand on his chest and nudged him gently. She needed to know that he was alive at least. His eyes opened a sliver and his gaze drifted to her lazily. “Hey,” she smiled, relief billowing out with her breath. She petted the side of his head that wasn’t covered in blood, shifting his hair to the side.

“You’re all right,” he murmured.

 “Yeah,” she said in the same gentle voice as before, a breathy high sound. “I’m all right. Thanks to you.”

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, putting his hand over hers, clasping it against his chest where it still lie. He must’ve seen it on her face; the painful guilt, the terrible feeling of uselessness. He was in the state he was in because he’d come back for her.

“I’d do it again,” he muttered. “I already lost you once and I can’t… again…”

Kim’s face grew very hot as his eyes rolled back under his closing eyelids. Her heart raced. She glanced up at Mrs. Weasley, both afraid and embarrassed for all that was happening. She didn’t seem to notice, but Ginny looked at Kim in an unreadable way. There was a ruckus going on in the kitchen, and suddenly Kim felt she should leave George in the capable hands of his family and move herself out of the possibly wary gaze of Ginny.

“I’m sorry, Harry, but I had to check,” Lupin was saying to Harry tersely. The collar of Harry’s shirt was bunched, so he yanked on the hem, resituating himself a bit hotly as Lupin continued. “We’ve been betrayed. Voldemort knew that you were being moved tonight and the only people who could have told him were directly involved in the plan. You might have been an impostor.”

“So why aren’ you checkin’ me?” panted Hagrid. He was so large it was a miracle he fit inside the kitchen at all.

“You’re half-giant,” said Lupin, looking up at Hagrid. “The Polyjuice Potion is designed for human use only.”

“Where’s Fred?” Kim interrupted. Worry worked its way into her words. Harry just looked at her.

“He hasn’t come back yet,” he said.

“Shouldn’t he be back by now?”

Harry’s silence was answer enough. Her mind raced, thinking back to the last sight she’d caught of the battle before they had tumbled into the forest. There had been two Harrys, each with their guard. One of them, George, had bolted for her the moment he’d seen she was in trouble. The other had to’ve been Fred, she was sure. So why had he stopped George? What had he said? Why hadn’t he come after his brother to help Kim? She pushed the thoughts away, feeling selfish and wrong. She just hopped he was okay. She needed him to be.

“Anyway,” Harry said, turning solemnly to Lupin. “Voldemort only caught up with me toward the end, so I don’t think he knew which one I was in the beginning. If he’d been in on the plan he’d have known from the start I was the one with Hagrid.”

“Voldemort caught up with you?” said Lupin sharply. Kim was eyeing Harry warily as well. “What happened? How did you escape?”

“I’m not sure… there were Death Eaters chasing us, and then they seemed to realize who I was. Then they disappeared for a while, and then Voldemort appeared. Thankfully we were just reaching Tonk’s parents’ house. We crossed into the protected area and Voldemort couldn’t follow.”

“You said the Death Eaters recognized you. But how? What had you done?”

“I…” he looked around at nothing, thinking. “I saw Stan Shunpike… You know, the bloke who was the conductor on the Knight Bus?” Kim remembered. She’s rode once with Hermione. “And I tried to disarm him instead of- well, he doesn’t know what he’s doing, does he? He must be Imperiused!” Kim smiled, but when she glanced up at Lupin he seemed a bit shocked.

“Harry, the time for disarming is past! These people are trying to capture and kill you! At least stun if you aren’t prepared to kill!”

“We were hundreds of feet up! Stan’s not himself, and if I stunned him and he’d fallen, he’d have died the same as if I’d used Avada Kedavra! Expelliarmus saved me from Voldemort two years ago,” Harry added defiantly. Kim could tell he was trying to defend what Lupin evidently saw as naivety. He already felt guilty enough about all that was happening, did Lupin really need to drill the point in?

“Yes, Harry,” said Lupin with painful restraint, “and a great number of Death Eaters witnessed that happening! Forgive me, but it was a very unusual move then, under imminent threat of death. Repeating it tonight in front of Death Eaters who either witnessed or heard about the first occ—”

“What was he supposed to do?” Kim cut in. “Sure, in hindsight it seems obvious, but you’re basically saying he shouldn’t have been himself. There are a hundred things that couldn’t have given him away to a Death Eater, like the fact that he had the _real_ Hedwig with him instead of the stuffed fake one that we all dropped the moment of the attack.” Harry seemed to be momentarily shocked by what she said, for reasons Kim couldn’t fathom. He looked almost lost, his eyes vague and distant. Kim frowned at him, so surprised by this reaction she forgot to care what Lupin’s reaction to her words was.

“All the same, the Death Eaters seem to think it is your signature move, Harry,” Lupin continued, “and I urge you not to let it become so!”

“I won’t blast people out of my way just because they’re there,” said Harry grimly. “That’s Voldemort’s job.”

Lupin looked like he was about to say something, but a scuffling from outside stopped him short. He whirled around in an instant and dived for the back door. Harry squeezed between Hagrid and the kitchen table, nearly leaping after Lupin. Kim followed and watched, wide eyed as they sprinted into the yard. Two figures became visible. As they came closer to the light of the house, Kim saw Hermione and Kingly returning safely. She was glad, but also worried. _Where is Fred?_

Kim approached the group to raised voices being thrown about the yard.

“But somebody betrayed us!” said Kingsley. “They knew, they knew it was tonight!”

“So it seems,” replied Lupin, “but apparently they did not realize that there would be seven Harrys.”

“Small comfort!” snarled Kingsley. Kim couldn’t’ help but agree. Whoever let slip the information about their plans might’ve just been less informed on the details, or perhaps was only giving what information they had to, for fear of torture or death.

“Hey,” Kim said, approaching Hermione’s back.

“Kim,” she breathed, hugging her tightly around the neck.

“Glad you’re okay,” Kim muttered into her shoulder before she released.

“You too… Ron’s not back...”

“Or Fred…”

“Where’s Mad-Eye?” Kingsley asked, suddenly addressing Kim. “And Mundungus, weren’t they supposed to be with you?”

“They were, but we were separated… Well, really Mundungus ran away. He was trying to flee by broom at first, which is when I got dragged away from Mad-Eye. I couldn’t find him after we were initially separated so, I don’t know where he is now. And Mundungus apparated away the moment he realized I wasn’t going to let him just fly off.”

“Slimy git,” Harry muttered hotly.

“He shouldn’t have been included in this. It was clear he didn’t want to be involved, so why Mad-Eye forced him, I don’t know,” Kim said. It was quiet for a moment.

“There were so many of them…” Hermione breathed, as if not realizing she spoke aloud at all. “How could there be so many.”

“Obviously there’s been a mass breakout which the Ministry has hushed up,” Kingsley said darkly. “Travers’s hood fell of when I cursed him, he’s supposed to be inside, and others too I think… But what happened to you, Remus? Where’s George?”

“He lost an ear,” said Lupin.

“Lost an-” Hermione repeated in a high voice. _He’s going to be half deaf forever… Because he came after me. Because he came to save me._

“Snape’s work,” said Lupin.

“ _Snape?_ ” shouted Harry. “You didn’t say—”

“He lost his hood during the chase. Sectrumsempra was always a specialty of Snape’s. I wish I could say I’d paid him back in kind, but I was a bit distracted. Voldemort payed our group a visit as well.”

“How’d you fight him off with just yourself?” Kingsley asked, both curious and impressed.

“I didn’t,” Lupin said, and eyed Kim. She glanced at him and then looked away sheepishly. “Kim was there, though fighting off a paralysis charm of some kind I think.”

“You?” Kingsley said, eyebrows raised. All eyes turned to her.

“I fought him off while he got George,” she said plainly. She didn’t say she’d thought she was again greeting her death. She didn’t say how Voldemort had only spared her because he’d thought she was Harry. She didn’t say how he’d continued to spare her because… because he’d found her _promising._ The thought sent chills tingling up her spine and the hairs on her body stood on end. She _didn’t_ tell, and thought perhaps she never would, how she had performed the most forbidden curse so easily.

“Well…” Kingsley seemed impressed. Kim did not feel the same.

“Harry, give us a hand!” called Hagrid from the house. He was stuck in the doorway. Harry headed back to the house and disappeared into the kitchen along with Hermione after helping Hagrid get free. Lupin and Kingsley were muttering about logistics, but Kim wasn’t listening. She was thinking about Voldemort, his blood red eyes, looking at her, coveting her. She thought about George, lying in the living room with blood slickening his neck and chin. He would never get that ear back, he would never hear from it again, but he was not the most changed between them. She had lost something too, she thought, though she didn’t know when exactly. Was it the moment the green light had slithered from her wand tip? Or was it sometime long before, when she’d agreed with the silent, dark forces in her life, that she would do whatever was needed to protect Harry and others she loved. Perhaps it was the fact that she was like Voldemort in a way that no one else, probably in the entire world, was. They were both of the same make now, in a way that made Kim both uneasy, and something else akin to proud _._

Dead, alive, the two of them were some cross between. Perhaps he had even felt it in her. _I can smell it,_ he’d said. Whatever thing that made Harry unable to kill, Kim did not have. Not anymore.

And then there was a snap and another pair of people appeared. And this time it was Fred, in one piece, unharmed. She let out an audible sigh of relief and rushed into his arms. She let herself feel grateful for a moment, the swelling gratitude for Fred’s safety washing away her other thoughts for the time.

“You’re okay,” she breathed into his shoulder. Mr. Weasley was by his side.

“I was worried,” he said, squeezing her firmly. When finally they released he kissed her on the forehead.

“Where’s George?” Mr. Weasley asked.

Kim looked at him for a moment before she could answer. “He’s in the living room… he’s…”

“What? _What_?” Pressed Mr. Weasley, but he didn’t seem to have the time now to wait for her response. He hurried toward the house, met quickly by Kingsley and Lupin.

“Don’t move!” Kingsley said, raising a wand at Mr. Weasley, who for a moment looked utterly betrayed and confused, and then simply agitated as he realized. He started past Kingsley without explanation.

“Don’t move!”

“I’ll prove who I am, Kingsley, after I’ve seen my son, now back off if you know what’s good for you!” he bellowed.

“What’s happened to George?” Fred pressed as they followed hurriedly in Mr. Weasley’s wake.

“It’s his ear…” She couldn’t really explain any farther, it filled her with too much guilt. It didn’t matter anyway, they were already bursting through the kitchen to the living room.

“Arthur!” sobbed Mrs. Weasley. “Oh thank goodness!”

“How is he?”

Mr. Weasley dropped to his knees beside the couch where George lie. Fred crested the edge of the couch and came to a sudden halt, eyes boring down on his brother. Kim had a hard time looking at it, the clear whole in the side of George’s head where the ear used to be. It wasn’t the blood or the gore that bothered her.

“How do you feel, Georgie?” whispered Mrs. Weasley. He was stirring, eyes moving on the other side of his lids. He opened them just a sliver. His fingers groped for the side of his head.

“Saintlike,” he murmured.

“What’s wrong with him?” croaked Fred, looking terrified. Kim’s heart only sunk farther to see Fred as such. Afraid, hopeless like he never was. “Is his mind affected?”

“Saintlike,” repeated George, opening his eyes and looking up at his brother. “You see… I’m holy. _Holey,_ Fred, geddit?”

Mrs. Weasley sobbed harder, but Kim couldn’t help the flick of a smile. She snorted and rolled her eyes theatrically.

“Pathetic,” Fred said with lightness returning. His voice was still a little weak from the shock of everything, but it was becoming its usual fever. “Pathetic! With the whole wide world of ear-related humor before you, you go for _holey_?”

“Ah well,” said George, grinning at Mrs. Weasley. “You’ll be able to tell us apart now, anyway, Mum.” He looked around and his eyes fell on Harry. “Hi Harry- you are Harry, right?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Well, at least we got you back okay,” said George. “Why aren’t Ron and Bill huddled round my sickbed?”

“They’re not back yet, George,” said Mrs. Weasley. The grin slid from his face.

“What happened?” Fred pressed Kim, turning from George who looked like he was still balancing on the edge of fatigued sleep, his mother doubting all about him. “How did-” he merely looked over his shoulder toward the couch.

“Well, George came after me for whatever reason,” Kim said, her voice sounding somewhat far away from her. She made an effort to refocus herself. “I assume all of you were headed toward your safe house?”

Fred looked uncomfortable, guilty. “Yeah. He spotted you getting toted off. Kim, I was going to go after him but it only took a moment of us floating around there for a Death Eater to come by and keep us busy.”

“It’s okay,” she said, genuinely. It didn’t matter now. He was well, and so was George, more or less.

“I was _going_ to go after you.” He was starting to sound more like he was convincing himself more than her, so Kim continued with her story, hoping to shift from the subject.

“Anyway, I was paralyzed by a spell and he was trying to carry me to safety. The spell came out of nowhere, from behind. I guess it knocked him off balance too so we fell, though we were close enough to the ground. Snape and Voldemort. Lupin and I had to fight them off—”

“You fought You-Know-Who?”

Kim hesitated and then shrugged. “I more just flung spells at him which he perpetually blocked until he realized neither of us were the real Harry and he disappeared.” It was about as close to the truth as she might ever get.

“Still… _You-Know-Who_ ,” he said, disbelievingly.

“Yeah… I wasn’t the only one who had to face him tonight… I just hope the others are okay…”

It seemed like forever that they waited for a sign that the rest of them were still alive. Finally Ron did return with Tonks, to great relief of all. They were followed by Bill and Fleur. Kim watched thankfully as Mrs. Weasley wept with relief and embraced her son. But Bill looked solemn and unrelieved.

“Mad-Eye’s dead.”

Kim just watched on, like the words hadn’t meant anything to her. She didn’t quite understand them at first.

“We saw it,” said Bill after a long pause, to which Fleur nodded, cheeks glistening slightly in the illumination of the firelight.

“It happened just after we broke out of the circle. Voldemort- he can fly- went straight for Mad- Eye. Mundungus and Kim were already gone, I think Mundungus fled… Voldemort’s curse hit Mad-Eye full in the face, he fell backward off his broom and… there was nothing we could do, nothing, we had half a dozen of them on our own tail-” Bills voice broke. And he had seemed so put together, so calm, so cool. No one could be those things in these times. Age, experience didn’t seem to be a thing anymore. They were all just children in this now, experiencing far beyond what a single person should ever have to experience.

“Of course you couldn’t have done anything,” said Lupin.

Kim went inside and didn’t speak with anyone. The others drifted with her, and soon everyone was in the living room. Strix flew down from upstairs and came to perch on Kim, asking for nuzzles as though Kim had been gone a long time. The living room was very silent at first. Slowly though, the room had to unthaw, and discussion began. How had they known, what had they known? Who was responsible? Kim wasn’t really listening to any of it until Fleur spoke.

“…zat eez all very good, but still eet does not explain ‘ow zey knew we were moving ‘Arry tonight, does eet? Somebody must ‘ave been careless. Somebody let slip ze date to an outsider. It is ze only explanation for zem knowing ze date but not ze ‘ole plan.”

The room was as silent as the dead.

“No,” said Harry firmly. Everyone looked at him. “I mean… if somebody made a mistake and let something slip, I know they didn’t mean to do it. It’s not their fault… We’ve got to trust each other. I trust all of you, I don’t think anyone in this room would ever sell me to Voldemort.” Everyone digested these words. _Of course he would think that way… that’s Harry._

“Well said, Harry,” said Fred, making Kim look at him fondly.

“Yeah, ‘ear, ‘ear,” said George, with a half glance at Fred, whose mouth twitched at the corners.

“You think I’m a fool?” demanded Harry. Kim looked up to see he was looking at Lupin who seemed oddly sorry.

“No, I think you’re like James,” he said, “who would have regarded it as the height of dishonor to mistrust his friends.” Lupin didn’t quite say it like it was a bad thing, but he didn’t say it was a good thing either. Harry looked like he wanted to argue, but Lupin turned way to face Bill. “There’s work to do. I can ask Kingsley whether—”

“No,” said Bill at once, “I’ll do it, I’ll come.”

“Where are you going?” said Tonks and Fleur together.

“Mad-Eye’s body,” said Lupin. “We need to recover it.”

“Can’t it-” began Mrs. Weasley with an appealing look at Bill.

“Wait?” said Bill. “Not unless you’d rather the Death Eaters took it?”

Of course no one wanted this. Lupin and Bill said good-bye and left. Everyone else began to settle more permanently into chairs or in the seats they already occupied. It was quiet for almost a minute, and then, “I’ve got to go too.” It was Harry, fidgeting where he stood by the doorway into the kitchen.

“Don’t be silly, Harry,” Mrs. Weasley said, as they were all thinking. “What are you talking about?”

But Kim thought she already know what he was talking about. He felt powerless to stop his friends from being hurt; his least favorite state to be in.

“I can’t stay here.” This was utter lunacy. Kim grimaced, knowing someone would have to intervein. Harry, in this moment of utter madness, fully intended on leaving, she was sure.

“You’re all in danger while I’m here,” he continued. “I don’t want—”

“But don’t be so silly!” said Mrs. Weasley. “The whole point of tonight was to get you here safely, and thank goodness it worked. And Fleur’s agreed to get married here rather than in France, we’ve arranged everything so that we can all stay together and look after you—”

“If Voldemort finds out I’m here…”

Mrs. Weaslye’s words clearly were making things worse. Kim sighed heavily and pressed the palms of her hands against her eye sockets.

“But why would he?” Mrs. Weasley continued.

“There are a dozen places you might be now, Harry,” said Mr. Weasley. None of this would do any good. “He’s got no way of knowing which safe house you’re in.”

“It’s not me I’m worried for!” yelled Harry.

Kim finally stood and crossed the room to Harry as Mr. Weasley said, “We know that, but it would make our efforts tonight seem rather pointless if you left.”

“Yer not goin’ anywhere,” growled Hagrid.

“He’s right,” Kim said, trying to take over before things got out of hand, but it was already happening. Harry was already looking overwhelmed, cornered in the center of everything again.

“Blimey, Harry, after all we wen’ through ter get you here?” said Hagrid.

“Yeah, what about my bleeding ear?” said Geroge, hoisting himself up on his cushions.

“I know that—”

“Mad-Eye wouldn’t want—”

“ _I know!_ ” Harry bellowed, voice ringing in Kim’s ears.

“Harry, _Harry_!” Kim finally raised her voice, drawing his attention to her. She lowered her tone back to gentle and loosened her fingers which she realized had moved to grasp Harry’s forearms on either side. “Listen to me. This has got nothing to do with you personally. Sure, we all like you. But this isn’t about you. So stop blaming yourself. Mad-Eye didn’t die for you. He died for the cause. You are an essential part of that cause. We’re all your friends, we all love you, but this is much bigger than just that. We can’t just think about what we want, emotionally. We can’t risk the mission. That’s why you’ll stay here, risking your life simply by being alive, and we’ll stay here, risking our lives to be near you. Because it’s what we have to do.”

Harry’s breathing had calmed substantially while she spoke, and he was now looking at her, exhaustedly. The room stayed very quiet. It had occurred to Kim more than once that they had risked their lives to save a dead man. Harry was doomed. But she refused to think about it. She hadn’t had the time to resign to it yet, or decide what else could be done. Dumbledore hadn’t given up on Harry yet when he died. Perhaps Kim could continue the search for a way to save him, then.

“Okay,” he said, sounding hollow. She couldn’t really ask for more, given the circumstances. She gave him a tired smile in return. She released his arms and moved back to her seat on the couch. Harry lowered himself stiffly into a chair. “I don’t know how everyone thinks me able to defeat Voldemort, but okay…”

Kim sighed, also sitting on the couch George lay out on, causing him to bend at the knees to make room for her.

“You managed to get away from him tonight,” she said with a shrug. It wasn’t much, but she didn’t have a better answer.

“No I didn’t,” Harry said bleakly. “It wasn’t me. It was my wand. My wand acted of its own accord.”

“But that’s impossible, Harry,” said Hermione gently. “You mean that you did magic without meaning to; you reacted instinctively.”

“No,” said Harry. “The bike was falling, I couldn’t have told you where Voldemort was, but my wand spun in my hand and found him and shot a spell at him, and it wasn’t even a spell I recognized. I’ve never made gold flames appear before.”

Kim frowned. She was mostly on the side of Hermione; Harry likely just misinterpreted his own actions in the heat of the moment. But he seemed so sure, even though he must know as well as the rest of them that it was impossible. But was it? It was foolish to assume that she or anyone in the room knew everything there was to know about magic. Even Dumbledore didn’t know all.

“Often,” said Mr. Weasley, “when you’re in a pressured situation you can produce magic you never dreamed of. Small children often find, before they’re trained—”

“It wasn’t like that,” said Harry through clenched teeth. He was scowling, almost wincing, and his breathing was getting just slightly uneven again. The room was quiet for a moment while Kim tried to think of words to comfort him.

“Need some fresh air,” he muttered barely distinguishable words as he stood and hastily marched from the room. Kim heaved a breath of frustration. No one else made to follow Harry, and Kim was afraid he might try to bolt if there wasn’t someone there to hold him down.

“I’m going to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid,” Kim sighed in resignation as she stood and headed for the kitchen. Through the back door, Kim found Harry standing near the fence in the back yard, staring off at nothing. She approached silently, and as she came to his side he seemed to realize suddenly that she was there. He blinked rapidly, but didn’t manage to hide the slight glisten in his eyes from her.

“Harry, I believe you,” she said soothingly. He looked at her, a little surprised.

“You do?” His softness soured then as he looked out over the yard. “Why? No one else does.”

Kim shrugged. “Remember that time I came back from the dead?” she said casually. He looked at her in question. “I’m still not sure anyone believes me about that. And why should they? They’ve never experienced the _mystery_ of magic. They think it’s all text books. Everything is known, everything is measured- everything is _measurable._ When it’s not. Dumbledore knew that. And he was trying to teach you that. I think that’s for a reason.”

Harry grimaced and clutched the fence, leaning on it a bit. He looked at his shoes. “Thanks.” He’d said it very plainly, but Kim knew he meant it.

And then, Strix did what she had done dozens of times, though it seemed it had been a long time, a life time ago, since she did it last. She hopped, almost playfully, from Kim’s shoulder to Harry’s, just long enough to nip him on his jaw and fly off, looping around to swoop back to Kim’s shoulder.

“Damn bird,” Harry muttered, scratching at the small prick that oozed a drop of blood. Kim stared at the spot even though it was already fading. She knew what it meant. What it was supposed to mean. Harry was marked for death. But then, he always had been, it seemed, as long as she’d known him. Strix had become a successful predictor of death, but in Harry’s case, her predictions had never come true. Something about Harry was different to Strix, maybe. There was a reason, but it was unknowable. So maybe there was still hope. She had to believe there was, didn’t she? She didn’t quite know how to go on, if there wasn’t.

“Harry…” She was starting to make her mind up about something. “I know you’re going to go after the horcruxes. I know you have to, and I’m not going to try and stop you,” she assured him, because he immediately got a defensive look about him. “I want to come with you…” He started to shake his head, opening his mouth to speak, but Kim spoke first. “But I can’t.”

He faltered. “I- that’s…”

“It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just…” she struggled, looking away from him. _It’s just I have something I have to do. It’s just I’ll be busy trying to figure out how the hell to save your life in all this._ But she hesitated long enough that Harry assumed she didn’t have a real reason. And she supposed she didn’t have a reason she could tell him anyway.

“Kim, it’s fine. It’s better that way, I don’t want _anyone_ coming with me—”

“You can’t go alone. Dumbledore wouldn’t have wanted that either—”

“Well he’s not here, is he?” Harry snapped unreasonably. Kim wasn’t hurt by it. She knew what Harry was going through. The guilt in her chest for not telling him earlier that Dumbledore was going to die ached.

“Harry… promise me you won’t leave without a word. That you won’t just run off. None of us can stop you, if you decided to… all we can do is ask that you realize what that would do to all of us.”

“I don’t know why you care so much,” he muttered.

_Because I love you._ But how could she say that in a way that he would understand. _You’re my best friend, like a brother to me, you’re my family…_

“Harry… I- I want to tell you something,” she began tentatively. “It’s going to be hard to believe, it was for me too-” she stopped herself short when she turned to look at Harry. He was scowling deeply, and as she looked at him he clutched his forehead and let out a sound of distress.

“Are you okay?” she asked franticly, and he buckled onto his knees. For an instant all Kim could do was watch in horror, and then he started to speak. It was that same voice that had come from him once before, collapsed on the floor of the library, as if another entity had taken him all together.

“ _You told me the problem would be solved by using another’s wand!_ ” he hissed, rage filled and writhing on the ground.

“Harry! Harry, wake up,” she pled, falling to her knees and clasping his arm. She knew this presence too well by now. It was almost as potent as if Voldemort was actually there, standing before her. Kim fought to not be enveloped by it.

“ _You… help Potter… escape me!_ ” he muttered, but it was hard for Kim to make out all the words. She rolled Harry onto his back, shaking him lightly and trying to get him to the present. “ _Liar!”_ he nearly screamed.

“Harry!”

And then his eyes snapped open, looking up at Kim.

“Are you all right?”

He breathed unevenly. “Fine,” he muttered as he sat up, Kim leaning off him so he could do so. She stood easily as Harry rose on shaking knees, using the fence to help him up.

“Harry?” came Hermione’s voice. She and Ron crossed the yard hastily. “Are you all right? You look awful!” He was pale and his wrists were shaking. “You had another vision of Voldemort,” she realized, eyeing him. He shot her a warry gaze before his eyes returned to a distant place.

“Yeah… Voldemort has Ollivander… he was angry about what happened in the fight, what happened between our wands.” He said it with a bit of triumph, looking pointedly at Hermione. So this confirmed that what he’d thought was true; something _had_ happened unusual with his wand. “Ollivander had told him using someone else’s wand would be enough to stop the connection, but still Voldemort’s wand hadn’t worked against me.” The group was quiet for a beat as Hermione and Ron looked appalled, terrified even.

“But I don’t understand…” said Hermione in a high voice. “That was supposed to have stopped! Your scar, it wasn’t supposed to do this anymore! You mustn’t let that connection open up again, Dumbledore wanted you to close your mind!” When he didn’t reply, she gripped his arm. “Harry, he’s taking over the Ministry and the newspapers and half the Wizarding world! Don’t let him inside your head too!”

“All right!” he said, glairing off at nothing, but Kim knew he hadn’t meant it. Not only was Harry probably thinking this bit of information had served him well, just like he’d thought two years ago, he also didn’t really have the ability to shut Voldemort out. He couldn’t even use Occlumency properly against _Kim,_ let alone the Dark Lord that had a piece of his darkness living inside Harry’s very soul. But Hermione, nor most others, would never understand that. It wasn’t measured, or measurable. It just was.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

By Blood

 For the next few days, Mrs. Weasley kept everyone’s mind off death and gloom by filling their days with tasks in preparation for the wedding. Kim had already gathered that she was in disbelief over Ron, Hermione, and Harry’s plans to drop out of Hogwarts, and to leave on their own. Since no one understood what it was Harry was leaving for, or what Harry _was_ in relation to Voldemort’s defeat, no one could understand why Dumbledore would have left a task of great importance to someone so young.

Kim herself was utterly torn about her decision not to go with them. Surely they would need all the help they could get. But she had to help Harry first, find a way to strip Voldemort form Harry’s sole, find a way to save him. She hadn’t forgotten her agreement with Dumbledore. Since she was the only person who knew about Harry’s necessary death, it was essential she stay alive long enough to see the deed done, if it came to that. The more she thought about it, the more it sank in that _she,_ and she alone would be the one to either save Harry’s life, or take it.

“You all right?”

Kim looked over her head. She was lying alone on her bed in Ginny’s room, staring at the celling when George had silently come in.

“Fine,” she said plainly, but she knew he wouldn’t believe her. She had been sullen a lot the past few days, despite the festivities. Resigning to staying behind had been difficult, though she was glad Harry had agreed, reluctantly, to stay in the Burrow until he turned 17, which was only a day before Fleur and Bill’s wedding, so he’d again been convinced that he might as well stay for that too.

“Yeah, just like everyone,” George said sarcastically. “Harry’s been a right bundle of joy.” He sat down at the head of the bed beside Kim’s folded ankles, back facing her.

“I know… It’s not his fault, there’s just so much on him.”

“Yeah… should be grateful he has you, though…”

Kim frowned up at him in question. Especially following her recent line of thought, this statement made no sense. He looked over his shoulder at her and shifted his body so they were more facing one another before continuing.

“Think he’d probably’ve wound himself right up a wall by now if it weren’t for you. Like the other night, he was having himself a right fit. I thought what we were saying was as much as could be said to calm someone down,” he said with a deep shrug. “But then you said whatever you said… like magic words or something.”

Kim exhaled sharply with a sideways smile. “Not everything’s magic.” The words came out oddly dark, though she wasn’t sure why. She thought of saying she’d just told him what she would’ve wanted to hear in his situation, but that wasn’t entirely the truth. “I just know Harry really well,” she decided. “He’s been one of my best friends for a long time, and… well we’ve been in lots of fights,” she added with an air of laughter in her tone. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing, but I suppose it means I know what he’s like when he’s angry, know what makes him angry.”

“… I think Fred’s mad at me.”

Kim tilted her head up to look down at him as he stared off in thought. “He’s just been acting… off.”

“He has,” Kim thought allowed. “But he’s not mad at you, George.” She propped herself up with her elbows behind her back to look at him. His hair mostly covered it, but if you looked for a moment at his face strait on you would start to notice there was something off about it. Something missing… “He’s just… things are changing. I mean, you guys had to close down the shop, all this with you and Mad-Eye… I think it’s just getting to him.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “I suppose you’re right… You probably are, you usually are about this sort.” His lightness returned to his tone and features, much to Kim’s relief.

She smiled at him, leaning forward farther to rest her folded arms on her knees. She didn’t say anything for a moment. “You know, I never formally thanked you… for saving my life.”

“You saved mine too, so I’m told, so… we’re even.”

“No,” she said, smirking at him. “You saved my life, and that’s _why_ yours was in danger. That’s why you lost an ear… so, we’re not even.”

“I’m not keeping score, Kim,” George said warmly. “What was I supposed to do, let him off with you?”

“I don’t know,” she said, looking at her folded arms and then resting her chin on them.

“Like I told you that night…” he began, his tone growing softer, sincere. “I’d do it again. Trade my other ear too.” He smirked and pointed to his other ear briefly before letting his hand drop back down to the mattress. Kim’s heart swelled and her hand slid down her leg to catch his. Her eyes burned and her throat prickled so she knew if she spoke tears would come. She didn’t know how to say it anyway, how much it meant to her, what he’d done. So she didn’t say anything. She simply squeezed his hand, thumb rubbing back and forth over his knuckles as she pressed her lips against her knee to stop a sob from coming out. They didn’t look at each other, didn’t have to. His hand felt familiar, oddly, even though she supposed it shouldn’t. Then again, they’d held hands before, she remembered with a foggy recollection, like a dream she was realizing hadn’t been a dream at all but memory written over by so many others.

“There you are—” came Fred’s voice from the doorway suddenly, but he cut himself short. Kim slid her fingers from George’s without thought, hastily returning them to her knees as she looked at Fred. He stared at the place where their hands had just clasped and then glanced at George, then Kim. His face seemed to be working to stay natural. He cleared his throat and dethawed from the frozen position he’d taken.

“I- was just looking for you. Didn’t know where’d you gone off to,” he murmured. Guilt of the most burning kind flared up Kim’s throat. _It wasn’t meant in any way… It was just hands touching, friends can do that…_ And that was true, but it didn’t stop her feeling like a traitor. Perhaps it wasn’t the action, but the intent. The feelings behind the actions. Perhaps Fred was beginning to see that as well…

* * *

Kim knocked on Ron’s bedroom door, and upon hearing a female voice inside, opened it.

“Well come on in, then,” Ron said sharply as he sat back down on the edge of his bed where he’d presumably been standing to get the door.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Kim said, shutting the door behind her. “I was looking for you guys.”

“Here we are,” Hermione said with a shrug and a half smile. Kim knew the group had been trying to get together and discuss their plan, a goal that had been repeatedly thwarted by Mrs. Weasley issuing tasks they were to do separately.

“So… you all know your plan yet?” Kim already knew from speaking with them separately that Ron had arranged for a transfigured ghoul to take his place once he left, in case the Ministry or anyone came looking for him. This way his parents could show that Ron was safe at home, just severely ill and unable to attend school. Hermione had erased her parents’ memory and arranged for them to move out of Brittan.

“Sort of…” Hermione said painfully.

“Mum hasn’t really made it easy to think of anything else but cleaning and party streamers,” Ron grumbled as Kim came to sit on Harry’s bed beside him.

“I know… I wish I could come with you…”

“No you don’t,” Harry said. “It’s going to be dangerous, and—”

“Because I don’t know anything about dangerous situations,” she snapped, and then relaxed. “Never mind.”

“Why can’t you go?” Hermione asked, trying to sound casual but there were notes of pressing curiosity.

Kim faltered. “I just can’t… for one, I’m supposed to be dead—”

“All the easier to hide why you’ve left. No one would come looking for you—”

“Hermione, stop,” Harry said. “I don’t want either of you coming along as it is, don’t try to talk her into it!”

It was quiet for a moment as Hermione looked somewhat guilty, and Harry’s anger calmed to a mask of somber placidity.

“Someone should stay behind anyway,” Kim finally said, offering the only honest reasoning for her remaining behind she could tell them. “Someone who knows what you’re doing should stay out of harm’s way, in case…”

“In case we all die,” Ron said for her.

Kim’s mouth got tight. “Yes. In case you all die. The knowledge of how to defeat Voldemort can’t die with you.”

“…I hadn’t thought of that,” Hermione said, a bit desperately.

“It’s okay… that’s what I’m here for.” She gave a painfully tight smile.

Through the following silence came the muffled sound of Mrs. Weasley shouting from four floors below.

“Ginny’s probably left a speck of dust on a poxy napkin ring,” said Ron. “I dunno why the Delacours have to come two days before the wedding.”

“Fleur’s sister’s a bridesmaid, she needs to be here for the rehearsal, and she’s too young to come on her own,” said Hermione, as she poured indecisively over a thick text with the title _Break with a Banshee._ After squinting at her and the large stack of books beside her, Kim realized she must be going through all her text books, looking for useful ones.

“Well, guests aren’t going to help Mum’s stress levels,” said Ron.

“What we really need to decide,” said Hermione, tossing _Defensive Magical Theory_ into a bin already half full of books without a second glance. She picked up _An appraisal of Magical Education in Europe,_ “is where we’re going after we leave here. I know you said you wanted to go to Godric’s Hallow first, Harry, and I understand why, but… well… shouldn’t we make the Horcruxes our priority?”

“If we knew where any of the Horcruxed were, I’d agree with you,” said Harry.

“You really don’t have any ideas to start with?” Kim asked, worriedly. Dumbledore had been searching for the other Horcruxes. Hadn’t he made any progress? Wouldn’t he have _told_ them about the progress he’d made before he died? _Perhaps not,_ she thought solemnly. _He hadn’t been given much of a warning before hand. No more than a day… He’d seemed to have other worries when I told him his days were numbered, seemed to have something he needed to do. But what was it? Why didn’t I ask?_

“No,” Harry said sharply. “So we may as well start there.”

“Don’t you think there’s a possibility that Voldemort’s keeping a watch on Godric’s Hallow?” Hermione asked. “He might expect you to go back and visit your parents’ graves once you’re free to go whenever you like?”

Harry raised a brow, seeming to consider this a fair point. Ron looked up then from deep thought.

“This R.A.B. person,” he said. “You know, the one who stole the real locket?”

“What do you mean?” Kim asked. “What locket?”

“Of course, we forgot to tell you…” Hermione realized, looking a bit guilty. “You see, you were already gone when it happened, and when you came back… well, it didn’t feel like the right time to be discussing plans…”

“Well, out with it then,” Kim encouraged impatiently.

“The night Dumbledore died,” Harry began, “we left Hogwarts to find a Horcrux.”

“You did?” Kim said in astonishment.

“Yes… and we thought we’d found it, but it was just a fake.” He rummaged through a pocket in his backpack and pulled free a silver locket dangling from a thick chain. “It’s not the real Horcrux, and inside it is this note.” He opened the locket and read from the small piece of folded parchment. “‘I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can.’”

“My point was, what if he _did_ finish it off?” said Ron.

“Or she,” interposed Hermione.

“Whichever,” said Ron, “it’d be one less for us to do!”

“Yes, but… you’ve got to be sure,” Kim said.

“Exactly,” agreed Hermione. “We’ll have to try and trace the real one down to find out whether or not it’s destroyed.”

“And once we get hold of it, how _do_ you destroy a Horcrux?” asked Ron.

“Well,” said Hermione, “I’ve been researching that.”

Kim swallowed. She didn’t know _much_ about this topic, but she did know _one_ way to destroy a Horcrux. But to say so would be to admit to a long-standing secret she’d kept from them; that she and Dumbledore had already found a Horcrux and destroyed it together, causing the very chain of events that led Dumbledore to his death, or so they had thought the curse would be the thing to kill him. It seemed so much had changed, so much had happened so fast. And she had so many secrets. How had she gotten so many? She didn’t remembering allowing things to become this way, it just happened.

“How?” asked Harry, unaware of her internal turmoil. “I didn’t think there were any books on Horcruxes in the library?”

“There aren’t,” Kim agreed.

“No, but…” Hermione started to flush a little, much to Kim’s confusion. “Dumbledore removed them all from the library, but he- he didn’t destroy them.”

Ron sat up straighter, wide-eyed. “How in the name of Merlin’s pants have you managed to get your hands on those Horcrux books?

Kim frowned at him. This was wholly over dramatic. One could’ve simply _asked_ Dumbledore to look at them, it wasn’t as if he was trying to make the task of finding them difficult for the group.

“It- it wasn’t stealing!” said Hermione, looking between all of them rapidly. “They were still library books, even if Dumbledore had taken them off the shelves. Anyway, if he _really_ didn’t want anyone to get at them, I’m sure he would have made it much harder to—”

“Get to the point!” said Ron.

“Well… it was easy. I just did a Summoning Charm. You know, Accio. And… they zoomed out of Dumbledore’s study window right into the girls’ dormitory.”

“But when did you do this?” Harry asked. Kim thought it was obvious. Dumbledore had to’ve been dead by that time, or certainly he would’ve notices a book smashing through his window.

“Just after his- Dumbledore’s funeral,” said Hermione in a very small voice. “Right after we agreed we’d leave school and go and look for the Horcruxes. When I went back upstairs to get my things it- it just occurred to me that the more we know about them, the better it would be… and I was alone in there… so I tried… and it worked. They flew straight in through the open window and I- I packed them.” She swallowed and said imploringly, “I can’t believe Dumbledore would have been angry, it’s not as though we’re going to use the information to make a Horcrux, is it?”

“Of course he wouldn’t be angry,” Kim reasoned, thinking it was a preposterous suggestion.

“Can you hear us complaining?” said Ron. “Where are these books anyway?”

“Well… it’s really just _one_ book,” Hermione said, rummaging in the pile and extracting a familiar looking text. “It gives explicit instructions on how to make a Horcrux. _Secrets of the Darkest Art_ … it’s a horrible book, really awful, full of evil magic. I wonder when Dumbledore removed it from the library… If he didn’t do it until he was headmaster, I bet Voldemort got all the instruction he needed from here.”

“Why did he have to ask Slughorn how to make a Horcrux, then, if he’d already read that?” asked Ron.

“He only approached Slughorn to find out what would happen if you split your soul into seven,” said Harry. “Dumbledore was sure Riddle already knew how to make a Horcrux by the time he asked Slughorn about them. I think you’re right, Hermione, that could easily have been where he got the information.”

“And the more I’ve read about them,” said Hermione, “the more horrible they seem, and the less I can believe that he actually made six. It warns in the book how unstable you make the rest of your soul by ripping it, and that’s just by making one Horcrux!”

“Isn’t there any way of putting yourself back together?”

“Yes,” said Hermione, to Kim’s surprise. She hadn’t thought of this. Suddenly she perked up from where she’d been sitting in silent guilt. Perhaps if she knew how to put Voldemort’s sole back together, it would take the piece of sole from Harry and spare him!

“But it would be excruciatingly painful,” Hermione continued.

“Why? How do you do it?” asked Harry.

“Remorse,” said Hermione. Kim’s face fell. “You’ve got to really feel what you’ve done. There’s a footnote. Apparently, the pain of it can destroy you. I can’t see Voldemort attempting it somehow, can you?”

“No,” said Kim and Ron at the same time. They looked at each other, though Kim was certain that he didn’t understand the additional reasons this news was a letdown to Kim.

“No, and of course there’s no way to force him,” Kim sighed, leaning back and rubbing her legs as if to get feeling back into them. They weren’t numb, but she was.

“So…” said Ron. “Does it say how to destroy Horcruxes in that book?”

“Yes,” said Hermione, turning the fragile pages as if examining rotten entrails, “Because it warns Dark wizards how strong they have to make the enchantments on them. From all that I’ve read, what Harry did to Riddle’s diary was one of the few really foolproof ways of destroying a Horcrux.”

“What, stabbing it with a basilisk fang?” asked Harry.

“Oh well, lucky we’ve got such a large supply of basilisk fangs, then,” said Ron. “I was wondering what we were going to do with them.”

It was quiet for a moment, and Kim cleared her throat. She had to say something. “No, maybe not.,,” Perhaps she could get them all to catch on to the point without explicitly telling them. Without explaining her whole, drawn out lie. “We don’t, and won’t have access to basilisk fangs, but it’s not really the fangs we need…” No one seemed to catch on. “It’s the venom!” Still they were looking at her blankly. “…Perhaps you can think of something that might have basilisk venom in it? Something that, oh I don’t know, is a magical weapon with the ability to absorb power that was also used by one of us to _kill_ a basilisk…” So much for her gentle nudging in the right direction.

“You’re talking about the sword of Gryffindor,” said Harry.

“Me? No… No, I was just asking if any of you could think of something like that, but good suggestion, Harry,” she said brightly. It was a purposefully unconvincing statement, but the mocking seemed to do what she’d intended; Harry scowled at her vaguely instead of press how she’d come up with the idea.

“So we’ve got to go back to Hogwarts after all… to get the sword,” Harry pondered.

“Seems like it. But you don’t really need it until you get the first Horcrux.”

“I always wondered how Dumbledore destroyed the ring…” Harry pondered distantly. “I should’ve asked him, I never really… anyway, I bet that was how. With the sword.”

“Yeah, probably,” Kim nodded with a forced smile that probably looked manic. None of them noticed. Silence dragged on between them.

It was shattered, though, when the bedroom door flew open with a wall-shaking crash. Hermione shrieked and dropped _Secrets of the Darkest Art,_ Crookshanks streaked under the bed, hissing indignantly, Ron jumped off the bed and skidded on a discarded Chocolate Frog wrapper, smacking his head on the opposite wall. Harry dived for his wand, evidently thinking they were under attack and Kim merely sat, bewildered by their reactions, and staring blankly at a fuming Mrs. Weasley.

“I’m so sorry to break up this cozy little gathering,” she said, her voice trembling. “I’m sure you all need your rest… but there are wedding presents stacked in my room that need sorting out and I was under the impression that you had agreed to help.”

“Oh yes,” said Hermione, looking terrified as she leaped to her feet, sending books tumbling from the pile she’d created around her, “we will… we’re sorry…”

Kim sighed and stood, making to follow Hermione from the room.

“It’s like being a house-elf,” complained Ron in an undertone as he followed behind Kim. “Except without the job satisfaction. The sooner this wedding’s over, the happier I’ll be.”

“Yeah,” Harry muttered back, “then we’ll have nothing to do except find Horcruxes… It’ll be like a holiday, won’t it?”

Kim grimaced but didn’t look back at them. Instead she tried to contemplate where on earth she would start her own search; the search for a way to save Harry’s life. Even after hours of mindless tasks behind her, she still got no closer to an answer.

That night, Kim found it difficult to sleep. It wasn’t for lack of exhaustion; Mrs. Weasley’s chores had seen to that. No, it was something else that, by now, she had become very accustom to. A prickling on the back of her neck. The distinct feeling that she was being watched. When the house settled and the corners creaked, her eyes peeled open, sure they would be met by a pair of scarlet mirroring her own. Finally she must’ve fallen asleep, however, because she found herself in a place that she could only visit in a dream.

It was Hogwarts, the fields that led up to the lake. They were exactly as they were, just as she remembered. Warm with a chill breeze, sunny and rolling expanse, idyllic. She was completely alone, which she didn’t find odd at all. She felt something against her bare foot, and when she looked down there was movement in the grass. It rushed away from her, so she followed it. At first, she was just compelled to do so, but then the compulsion became more desperate. She started to run. She could only get glimpses of it, shiny and long in the grass. Whatever it was, it got faster and faster as she pounded her heels into the dirt in attempts to reach it. Her desperation grew to a sickening fear twisting in her gut. She could not fail, but her legs were soon to give out.

She lunged forward in a last attempt, and with the end of her palm, grazed cool skin. Her body slammed into the earth but she merely felt the jarring, no pain. She had caught the thing, but what happened next, she did not expect. It reared on her, twisting around her arm held above her head, constricting. When she looked up, she could see it was a snake made of black smoke, like the one from the Gaunt shack. She had been certain moments ago that it was something real, made of true matter. She stood in a frenzy attempting to fling the thing off, but it was immovable. No warning was issued to her before her vision went black.

Nothing. For just a moment.

She realized she had been knocked to the ground again, lying on her back. She opened her eyes. Red light seemed to emanate from her face. She realized it was her eyes; they were glowing red. The sky overhead was overcast now, and only a moment after she had opened her eyes, the clouds seemed to part for glowing red orbs, long and ovular like disks of light. What she experienced next could not be heard or seen. She could only feel it. Her body buzzing, alive and crawling like each cell of her body rolled in excitement. It made her as uneasy as it did… restless. Like she needed to squeeze something until it popped.

When her eyes peeled back to reveal the dark bedroom at the Burrow, the feeling was still living in her veins. She didn’t move. Slowly, it faded, until her body was back to it’s normal, static self. As she continued to stare at the ceiling, her peripheral vision didn’t miss the black figure move past the window and into the corner.

She remained still and closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath through her nose. She knew the figure well. She knew the fear well, too. She allowed herself to feel it, high and thrilling, like a drug. It too, faded, and when it did she opened her eyes. The figure was, of course, gone.

The next day when Kim awoke it was already mid-morning. Strix had awoken her, rustling angrily in her cage to be let out. She wasn’t allowed to go far, because of the enchantments on the Burrow, which she didn’t like.

“I know, I know,” Kim muttered, opening the cage and letting the tiny bird hop onto her arm. “I don’t like it much, either.” She opened the window and let her fly off to the border woods where she would do whatever it was Strix did when she wasn’t hunting.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” came Hermione’s voice from behind Kim. She stepped in through the door left open a crack.

“Morning,” Kim said groggily.

“Good morning. I think Mrs. Weasley is getting a bit anxious about the state of the shrubbery by the mail box. It’s become a bit over grown and-” she stopped herself short a moment. “Are you alright?”

Kim looked up from where she’d been scowling at the floor, messaging the skin between her eyebrows. “Yeah… just…” She sighed, sitting on the end of her bed to put on her shoes. “I don’t know… bad night’s sleep.”

“… Are you… having dreams again?”

Kim thought this was an odd question. Hermione preferred to avoid all talk of Divining, but maybe something had changed, with all the times that Kim had been right.

“I’m always having dreams.”

“Right, but… visions I mean, did you have any… visions?”

Kim thought a moment. Last night hadn’t been the first disturbing dream she’d had in the past few days, and it wasn’t just that. “No,” she decided, her face screwed up in thought. “No, not visions, but… I don’t know, warnings maybe.”

“Warnings?” She came the rest of the way into the room and sat on Ginny’s bed across from Kim.

“Yeah… I think so. I have… a bad feeling. About the wedding, or maybe about Harry’s birthday… I don’t know. Something soon… Something bad…”

Hermione gave a bothered breath and rubbed her knees. “Everything’s seemed bad lately.”

“Yeah… Like I said, I don’t have anything specific… I’m just worried. At first I thought it was that Harry was going to run off without us and that’s what the feeling was warning me of. But now I don’t think so. Now I think it’s something… else.”

Hermione swallowed, nodding as she stared out the window. Kim studied her features. It was clear she was worried too. Maybe she’d had the same feelings as Kim, but simply wasn’t in tune enough with her gut to listen.

“I think I’ll pack a bag then. Yes,” she said, nodding more assuredly. “Yes, I’ll pack a bag in case we need to leave suddenly, with everything we might need to bring. That’s probably a smart idea anyway.” She stood as she spoke, as if really she was talking to herself, and moved to the door.

Kim nodded and said, “Good idea,” though it was clear she didn’t need the assurance. She left without another word, distracted by her new task. Kim rubbed her face and recollected herself. The rumblings in her stomach that danger approached would have to take a side seat for now. She had other worries to focus on.

Namely Harry’s birthday. Today he turned seventeen, and she had yet to come up with a good gift idea. Not to mention she had no money with which to purchase one. Now that it was here, she was forced to accept she would not miraculously synthesize a gift out of the air. She supposed she _could_ make something, were she a better witch, but making something out of nothing or transfiguring something useless into something useful was well beyond her skill.

“I’m sorry, Harry, I didn’t get you anything,” Kim said quietly as she came down for breakfast. Harry had already finished his food and was just glancing up at her as he stood from the table.

“It’s fine,” he said with a nervous expression. “Really, I don’t want anything.”

“It’s just that… I don’t really have the means to g—”

“Seriously, I don’t care. But maybe, in replacement of a gift, I could talk to you for a second? I just have a question…” He was suddenly speaking hushed, eyes darting to the doorway of the kitchen, probably waiting to see Mrs. Weasley round the corner and assign them separate tasks.

“Yeah, of course,” Kim said in an equally hushed voice. Harry moved for the back door and bobbed his head toward outside. Kim followed, shutting the door behind her and breathing in the fresh morning air. There was still some dew in it that she could taste on the back of her tongue as she breathed deeply in.

“So… what’s the question?”

“Well… it’s just, I know you went and saw Dumbledore pretty often. I was wondering… if he said anything to you?” He looked at her fervently. “Anything that might have to do with the Horcruxes, where they might be…”

A roll of guilt passed through her and her heart started to beat quicker. “No,” she said, honestly. Because Dumbledore _hadn’t_ mentioned anything about the horcruxes location. They had just been busy on other things, she supposed. “No, he never told me anything about the horcruxes. I mean, I knew there was a likelihood that there _were_ one or some, and I knew at the same time as you that it was confirmed to be seven. But we never talked about where one of them might be, besides the ring.”

Harry’s face fell. “Yeah… all right.” He took a few steps along the side of the house, nudging a tuft of grass with his foot.

“I’m sorry Harry… I wish I could help.”

“Don’t be…” They started walking absently around the perimeter of the yard. “I just wish Dumbledore was still here,” he said, making Kim look over at him desperately. His features got a little tight, like he wished he hadn’t said that thought aloud.

“I know… I do too.”

“It just seems… impossible. What we’re supposed to do, what _I’m-_ ” he stopped himself and shook his head, looking off over the garden.

“I know it does…” She wished there was something she could say to make him feel better. “But you’re not alone.”

“Yeah, I know, Ron and Hermione,” he muttered, though he still didn’t seem enthused by the idea of them putting themselves in harm’s way.

“And… Harry, there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you,” her courage suddenly plucking up at the sight of his abysmal state of mind. There had grown to be far too many secrets between them, and while most of them she had to keep, there was one she could tell…“I- I don’t know, you might not care. It might not mean anything to you, but…”

“Yes?” Harry pressed.

“You might not even believe me. Look, I was at the Ministry one day and I got nosey and, I don’t know, just bored and curious.” She had imagined telling him so many times and ways that somehow the words came out clearly and impossibly honest sounding, though the _real_ way she had found out about their relation was by looking up his ancestry to determine if his invisibility cloak was the real one or not. That, however was not a truth for today. _Focus!_ “I started looking at my friends’ ancestry records, because the ministry has those available for almost all wizarding families, available to the public.” She paused a moment.

“Okay…” It was clear he still hadn’t the slightest where this was going. Her heart thudded a little more fiercely.

“And… I… Looked at yours…”

“ _And_?” he pressed with impatience.

“This is the part you’re not going to believe… Harry, we’re… well, we’re related.”

Silence. Kim felt her insides shriveling. Why did this feel like such a big deal? Maybe she was making it out to be far larger than it was. But then she realized that in their stroll around the yard, Harry had stopped. She looked back to see him looking at her bewildered.

“How is that… _how_?”

“Cousins. Your father’s side and my mother’s side were once the same, back to your great grandfather. He was my great grandmother’s brother.” He still looked a mix of shocked and disbelieving. “I know it’s crazy, in all the wide world, to find your last magical relative… _me_. Because my parents and my grandparents were all muggles with no magical abilities, the ministry lost track. That and, somewhere before my grandfather, they moved to America. I knew the Shimmers family had originated in England, but I hadn’t realized how _recently._ ” Harry still wasn’t speaking, though he was walking alongside her again, staring at his feet. Kim felt herself growing uncertain again about bringing this up at all. “Anyway, I guess it doesn’t really matter, I mean it’s not like it chang—”

“No,” Harry said suddenly, interrupting Kim and looking up at her. His eyes were a little wide, imploring. His brow was furrowed just slightly, and Kim couldn’t decide if he was angry or sincere or desperate, or some combination of all of them. She stopped in her pacing since Harry had, and turned to face him fully. “No, it _does_ matter…”

“It does?” She said meekly.

“Of course it does. I thought-” he stopped himself, looking lost. Kim smiled kindly. She knew what he was about to say.

“You thought you were… alone.”

“I-… I thought the Dursley’s were my only family… I thought, other than them, I was… yeah, alone,” he said with a shrug. Kim smiled, relieved she had been right, relieved he cared about it the way she thought he would, the way she did. And of course he would. When he’d found out about his godfather, it had been one of the happiest realizations for him. That he had someone who was _his,_ someone he belonged to, and who belonged to him. People with family took that for granted, the _belonging_.

She clapped him on the shoulder, smile growing. “Maybe it was fate, Harry. Maybe we were fated to be friends. But now that you know we’re family, maybe you’ll understand that I don’t care about the danger, or whatever else you’re worried about, I’m still always going to be here.”

He smiled at her wryly. “You know, just because we’re family, I still don’t want you risking your life for my sake.”

“Yeah, too bad,” she said with a returning smirk and a shrug. “Happy Birthday Harry. Family; the gift you cannot return,” she said loftily, moving her hand across the air as if she were reading from a sign up in lights. She laughed, looking back at Harry as he laughed too, harder than the joke really called for. His eyes started to water a little, and as his laughter faded they were left just looking at one another for a moment. And then she was throwing her arms around his neck and he around her ribs, hands pressed firmly against her back in a tight embrace. He laughed a little as she smiled and reveled in the intense relief. She’d told him, she’d told Harry at least one of the secrets that had been burning on her mind, and it had made him _happy_. As for the other secret, she refused to think of that now.

“What’re you two doing out here?” Ron asked as he came out of the back door, followed by Hermione. He looked around the garden as if some evidence of relevance would come from the surroundings.

“Er, Kim was just telling me…” Harry began, straitening and stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Harry and I are cousins.”

They both looked at her, bewildered.

“Cousins?” said Ron.

“How is that possible?” said Hermione.

“I know, but it _is_ true… Crazy small world, right?”

“But you’re muggle born!” Ron exclaimed.

“There’s magical blood in my family, and it comes from the Potter line,” Kim explained patiently. “It’s not a big deal, it’s just, well…” she looked at Harry who still seemed embarrassed. “You know.”

“Of course,” said Hermione, eyeing Harry. “Of course it’s a bigger deal for- well, anyway.” She stopped herself, wisely realizing that this topic was a bit personal for Harry, and he was getting so uncomfortable it was only a matter of time before he lost his hands into his trouser pockets forever, they were dug in so deep. “That’s interesting, and great news.”

“Yeah. Anyway, we better get inside,” Kim said. “I’m sure Mrs. Weasley has hundreds of chores for us to do.” With that they retreated inside and got to work.


	7. Two Out of Three Gathered

Chapter 7

Two Out of Three Gathered

Kim sat at a very long dining table placed in the Weasley’s back yard. Everyone sat around it, gathered for Harry’s birthday dinner. There was a massive cake shaped like a snitch on the table, and they were all chatting merrily, awaiting Mr. Weasley’s arrival.

“I think we’d better start without Arthur,” Mrs. Weasley called to the garden at large. “He must have been held up at- Oh!” Just then a streak of light came flying across the yard and onto the table, where it solidified into a bright silver weasel. The weasel perched on its two hind legs and spoke, freakishly, with Mr. Weasley’s voice.

“Minister of Magic coming with me.”

Kim’s eyes widened as the patronus dissolved. “The Minister?” she said, aghast, looking at Harry desperately.

“Hide,” he said quickly, and Kim jumped to her feet. She was supposed to be dead! She had to hide, but hide where, there was nothing but the underside of the table.

“We shouldn’t be here,” said Lupin at once. “Harry, I’m sorry, I’ll explain another time-” and before he had fully finished the words he’d seized Tonks’s wrist and pulled her away, dashing for the fence.

“To the house, Kim, quickly!” Mrs. Weasley waved, and Kim turned and bolted without farther instruction.

She ran all the way to the house as fast as she could and tore through the door. She panted for a moment in the silence of the living room. Then she dashed for the stairs, taking them two at a time with some effort, and throwing open the door into Ron’s bed room at the top of the house. She peered out the window and then ducked immediately. Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, a man Kim both feared and detested from the happenings in the Ministry of late, already stood in the midst of the festivities. He was saying something, and then Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood. Ron began to lead the way up to the house.

_What are they doing_? Kim cursed internally. She was going to have to _actually_ hide if they were coming into the house. _Or…_ she thought, and crossed the room in three bounds, falling to her knees before Harry’s rucksack on the floor. She tore through it and dug out his invisibility cloak. The door into the livingroom opened downstairs as Kim draped the fabric over her. There was the faint sound of scuffling as they all shifted into seats, and then utter silence. Kim held her breath.

There was muted conversation that Kim couldn’t quite make out. She moved on all fours to the door, moving painfully slow. Each floorboard she put weight on she tested for creaking before trusting it. She pushed Ron’s door open the rest of the way. It moaned and Kim grimaced. It was an old house though, and she was far enough away from Schrimgeour that he was unlikely to be able to hear. She crept down the stairs, again testing each step until she was on the second-floor landing and was able to make out what was being said bellow.

“A-all of us?” came Ron’s voice up the stairs. “Me and Hermione too?”

“Yes, all of—

“Dumbledore died over a month ago,” said Harry abruptly. “Why has it taken this long to give us what he left us?”

_Left us_ , Kim thought. _So Dumbledore had a will_. Then Kim received an irrational stab of jealousy that _Ron_ was left something by Dumbledore, and not herself. But she immediately recovered. Of course, even if he had left her something, it would never reach her. She was dead.

“Isn’t it obvious?” said Hermione. “They wanted to examine whatever he’s left us. You had no right to do that!”

“I had every right,” said Scrimgeour dismissively. “The Decree for Justifiable Confiscation gives the Ministry the power to confiscate the contents of a will—”

“That law was created to stop wizards passing on Dark artifacts,” said Hermione, “and the Ministry is supposed to have powerful evidence that the deceased’s possessions are illegal before seizing them! Are you telling me that you thought Dumbledore was trying to pass us something cursed?”

By this time Kim had made it to the second flight of stairs and was down a few steps, sitting delicately so she could listen more clearly now. Because of this she could hear, without impediment, the curtness in Scrimgeour’s voice.

“Are you planning to follow a career in Magical Law, Miss Granger?”

“No, I’m not,” Hermione retorted. “I’m hoping to do some good in the world!”

There was a following chuckle that sounded like Ron, and then Harry’s voice cutting over the end of it.

“So why have you decided to let us have our things now? Can’t think of a pretext to keep them?”

“No, it’ll be because the thirty-one days are up,” said Hermione at once. “They can’t keep the objects longer than that unless they can prove they’re dangerous. Right?”

“Would you say you were close to Dumbledore, Ronald?” asked Scrimgeour, ignoring Hermione.

“Me?” he said, sounding a bit startled. “Not- not really… It was always Harry who…” but he faded off.

“If you were not very close to Dumbledore, how do you account for the fact that he remembered you in his will? He made exceptionally few personal bequests. The vast majority of his possessions, his private library, his magical instruments, and other personal effects, were left to Hogwarts. Why do you think you were singled out?”

“I… dunno,” said Ron. “I… when I say we weren’t close… I mean, I think he liked me…”

“You’re being modest, Ron,” asserted Hermione. “Dumbledore was very fond of you.”

Kim was starting to understand what was going on. The Ministry suspected Dumbledore had attempted to pass something through his will, perhaps something that would help them against Voldemort? This seemed wholly foolish. What could he possibly have left in his will that he couldn’t have simply _told_ any of the three when he was alive and at Hogwarts? Especially since he knew he was going to die for at least a day before it happened.

There had been a pause, and now a rustling sound. Scrimgeour spoke as if reading from something.

“The Last Will and Testament of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore…” _That is one hell of a name,_ Kim thought. “Yes, here we are… ‘To Ronald Billius Weasley, I leave my Deluminator, in the hope that he will remember me when he uses it.’”

There was another faint scuffling sound of movement.

“This is a valuable object,” said Scrimgeour. Kim got the urge to see what was going on, and against her wiser judgment began to crawl down the stairs, very slowly, moving her rump from one step to the next.

“It may even be unique,” continued Scrimgeour. “Certainly it is of Dumbledore’s own design. Why would he have left you an item so rare?”

There was a pause. Kim was now able to see the base of the couch and everyone’s feet.

“Dumbledore must have taught thousands of students,” said Scrimgeour. “Yet the only ones he remembered in his will are you three. Why is that? To what use did he think you would put his Deluminator, Mr. Weasley?”

Absorbed in the conversation, Kim forgot to move with care and pressed her foot against a stair that creaked. Hermione and Harry looked to the stairwell in alarm that they quickly hid, but Scrimgeour seemed preoccupied with glaring at Ron.

“Put out lights, I s’pose,” he mumbled.” What else could I do with it?” Scrimgeour certainly didn’t seem to believe him, but he evidently had nothing to say as argument. He held the parchment up again and continued reading.

“‘To Miss Kim Emberly Shimmers, I leave my copy of _The Tales of Beedle and the Bard,”_ Kim’s heart had dropped into her stomach at the mention of her name, and it was now leaping back up into her chest painfully, “for our shared interest in the subjects contained. However, if for some reason Miss Shimmers should be rendered unable to receive this gift for any reason, it is to be bequeathed to Miss Hermione Jean Granger, for safe keeping, and because she and Miss Shimmers are similar in their unfaulting dedication to those they love, and of course to the acquisition of knowledge.”

Scrimgeour pulled from the bag, a small book so old Kim winced at his lack of care in handling it. Hermione took it gingerly and placed it in her lap. Craning her neck, Kim could see the cover was written in ancient ruins. This was truly the oldest version of the story that Kim had ever seen, perhaps the oldest that existed. Kim’s heart thudded. _The Tales of Beedle and the Bard_ contained a number of stories, but one was of the most importance to Kim; The Deathly Hallows. _Why would Dumbledore leave this to me? And why to Hermione after me? ‘For our shared interest in the subjects it contains…’ The Deathly Hallows, certainly that’s what he’s talking about. It’s inconspicuous enough, merely a children’s tale to anyone who doesn’t know… But then, why now! We already did all we could with the Hallows, we gathered them all together, we had all three, and_ nothing happened _. What else does he expect me to do?_

“Why do you think Dumbledore left you that book, Miss Granger?” asked Scrimgeour.

“He… he knew I liked books,” said Hermione in a thick voice. Kim hadn’t realized she was crying until she reached up and dabbed at her eye with her sleeve.

“Yes… but isn’t it peculiar that he would leave it to Miss Shimmers in the first hand, and then to you in the event that she could not receive it?”

Hermione sniffed, trying to think. Blinking she said, quite reasonably, “Well, Kim was in a lot of trouble with the ministry at the time. Perhaps Dumbledore added this amendment when he realized she was likely to end up in Azkaban.”

This was the most honest thing shared between the three of them and Scrimgeour so far. It seemed the most likely that Dumbledore had realized Kim might not be available to receive the book by the time he died. Perhaps he didn’t expect her _death_ , but certainly he could deduce she was caught up in what would delay her receiving the book. But why leave it to Hermione? _So she can pass it on to me once I’m free to receive it._ But why the message to Hermione, then? _‘And because she and Miss Shimmers are similar in their unfaulting dedication to those they love, and of course to the acquisition of knowledge._ It wasn’t the last bit that mattered, but the first. _Dedication to those they love… He’s talking about Harry. Combining the first part and the last part; ‘our shared interest in the subjects the book contains’ and ‘unfaulting dedication to those they love’. He was trying to tell me he still thinks that the Hallows can save Harry, but how?_

“Mmm, yes, quite clear headed of him… That he, merely the day after Miss Shimmers was taken to the Ministry for questioning, would fix his will. Also happening to be the _day_ before his death. He must’ve found these bequeethments rather important then, to attend to them so immediately, no?”

“So he cared about us,” Harry said, shrugging. “How does that make him suspicious, we were his students, and Kim’s one of his favorites.”

Scrimgeour’s eyes slid over to Harry. _“Was._ ” Everyone merely stared at him. “Miss Shimmers _was_ one of his favorites, as both he and she are deceased.” He watched for Harry’s reaction very closely. Kim held her breath.

“Thanks for the reminder,” Harry said harshly. “I care so little about it I sometimes find it easy to forget that my best friend and my mentor are _dead_.”

At this, Scrimgeour pursed his lips and looked back to the will, but only briefly. He squinted a bit and looked back to Hermione, studying her. “Did you ever discuss codes, or any means of passing secret messages with Dumbledore?”

“No, I didn’t,” said Hermione, voice sounding a bit clearer now, though her eyes still glistened.

“Do you know if Miss Shimmers—”

“No, I don’t. But I highly doubt it since that kind of thing wasn’t her strong suit.”

“But it is yours.”

Hermione grimaced. “If the Ministry hasn’t found any hidden codes in this book in thirty-one days, I doubt that I will.” Her voice grew thick again with the words and by the end she was repressing a sob. Ron fished his hand out form where it was wedged between them and put his arm over Hermione, consolingly. Kim would’ve been distracted by this strange development in affection if Scrimgeour hadn’t turned back to the will just then.

“‘To Harry James Potter I leave the snitch he caught in his first Quidditch match at Hogwarts, as a reminder of the reward of perseverance and skill.’” Harry seemed slightly crest fallen as Scrimgeour pulled out the small golden ball. Its wings unfolded and flapped feebly.

“Why did Dumbledore leave you this Snitch?” asked Scrimgeour.

“No idea,” said Harry. “For the reasons you just read out, I suppose… to remind me what you can get if you… persevere and whatever it was.”

“You think this is a mere symbolic keepsake, then?”

“I suppose so. What else could it be?”

“I’m asking the questions,” said Scrimgeour, shifting his chair a little closer to the sofa. It was dark in the livingroom by now, with dusk settling in and the sun slipping behind the trees. The lamplights threw an eerie shadow over the Minister. “I notice that your birthday cake is in the shape of a snitch,” he said darkly. “Why is that?”

Hermione broke the severity of the moment with a derisive laugh. “Oh, it can’t be a reference to the fact Harry’s a great Seeker, that’s way too obvious,” she said. “There must be a secret message from Dumbledore hidden in the icing!”

Kim’s sides stabbed and face ached from clamping shut her lips to stave off the laugh that had attempted to explode from her lips. There was nothing funnier to her than Hermione getting feisty with authority. It got her every time.

“I don’t think there’s anything hidden in the icing,” said Scrimgeour, “but a Snitch would be a very good hiding place for a small object. You know why, I’m sure?”

Harry shrugged, but of course Hermione had the answer.

“Because Snitches have flesh memories,” she said.

“What?” said Harry and Ron together, looking surprised and impressed at her.

“Correct,” said Scrimgeour. “A Snitch is not touched by bare skin before it is released, not even by the maker, who wears gloves. It carries an enchantment by which it can identify the first human to lay hands upon it, in case of a disputed capture. This Snitch,” he held up the golden ball, “will remember your touch, Potter. It occurs to me that Dumbledore, who had prodigious magical skill, whatever his other faults, might have enchanted this Snitch so that it will open only for you.”

Kim’s stomach started to churn at the idea. What if Dumbledore had intended another secret message after all? What if the Minister was right?

“Take it,” said Scrimgeour quietly.

Harry looked rather trapped. Kim could feel her body preparing for a fight, though she wasn’t certain why. Harry reached slowly forward and Scrimgeour leaned to place the snitch, slowly and deliberately, into Harry’s palm.

Nothing happened. Harry eyed the snitch, wrapping his fingers around it, but nothing.

“That was dramatic,” said Harry coolly. Both Ron and Hermione laughed.

“That’s all, then, is it?” asked Hermione making to pries herself off the sofa.

“Not quite,” said Scrimgeour, who looked bad-tempered now. “Dumbledore left you a second bequest, Potter.”

“What is it?” he asked hopefully.

“The sword of Godric Gryffindor,” he said. This at least, was obvious in its intent. Dumbledore had left the sword so that Harry could use it to destroy the remaining horcruxes.

“Where is it?” Harry asked after a moment’s pause.

“Unfortunately, that sword was not Dumbledore’s to give away. The sword of Godric Gryffindor is an important historical artifact, and as such, belongs—

“It belongs to Harry!” said Hermione hotly. “It chose him, he was the one who found it, it came to him out of the Sorting Hat—”

“According to reliable historical sources, the sword may present itself to any worthy Gryffindor,” said Scrimgeour. “That does not make it the exclusive property of Mr. Potter, whatever Dumbledore may have decided.” Scrimgeour scratched his badly shaven cheek, scrutinizing Harry. “Why do you think—”

“Dumbledore wanted to give me the sword?” said Harry, starting to lose his temper. “Maybe he thought it would look nice on my wall.”

“This is not a joke, Potter!” growled Scrimgeour. “Was it because Dumbledore believed that only the sword of Godric Gryffindor could defeat the Heir of Slytherin? Did he wish to give you that sword, Potter, because he believed, as do many, that you are the one destined to destroy He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?”

Kim stood at this point, not worried about being quite any longer, for the shouting was quite loud enough to cover her footsteps. She reached the lowest level and drew her wand.

“Interesting theory,” retorted Harry. “Has anyone ever tried sticking a sword in Voldemort? Maybe the Ministry should put some people onto that, instead of wasting their time stripping down deluminators or covering up breakouts from Azkaban. So is this what you’ve been doing, Minister, shut up in your office, trying to break open a snitch? People are dying, _I_ was nearly one of them, Voldemort chased me across three counties, he killed Mad-Eye Moody, but there’s been no word about any of that from the Ministry, has there? And you still expect us to cooperate with you!”

“You go too far!” shouted Scrimgeour, standing up. Harry jumped to his feet too, and was jabbed in the chest by Scrimgeour’s wand. It singed a hole in Harry’s T-shirt like a lit cigarette.

“Oi!” said Ron, jumping up and raising his own wand. Kim already had hers trained on the Minister, waiting for him to cross the line.

“No!” said Harry. “D’you want to give him an excuse to arrest us?”

“Remember you’re not at school, have you?” said Scrimgeour, very close to Harry’s face. “Remembered that I am not Dumbledore, who forgave your insolence and insubordination? You may wear that scar like a crown, Potter, but it is not up to a seventeen-your-old boy to tell me how to do my job! It’s time you learned some respect!”

“It’s time you earned it,” said Harry. Just then the door burst open and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley ran in.

“We- we thought we heard-” Mr. Weasly panted, looking very alarmed between Harry and the Minister, nose to nose.

“-raised voices,” Mrs. Weasley finished for him.

“Scrimgeour took a couple of steps away from Harry, glancing at the hole he had made in his shirt. He seemed to regret his loss of temper.

“It- it was nothing,” he growled. “I… regret your attitude,” he said, looking Harry directly in the face. “You seem to think that the Ministry does not desire what you- what Dumbledore- desired. We ought to be working together.”

“I don’t’ like your methods, Minister,” said Harry. “Remember?”

And he held up his hand for a reason Kim at first couldn’t fathom. Then she realized; there on his skin was the scar that faintly read _I must not tell lies._ Her own scar seemed to burn on her hand in memory.

Scrimgeour’s expression hardened and he turned away without another word. He limped from the room, Mrs. Weasley hurrying after him. After a moment the back door closed and Mrs. Weasly returned. “He’s gone!”

“What did he want?” Mr. Weasly asked at once. Fred and George came in at the same time, looking curiously at the gathering.

“To give us what Dumbledore left us,” said Harry. “They’ve only just released the contents of his will.”

At this, Kim drew off the cloak and revealed herself to all.

“Always the show off,” Fred murmured to George jokingly. Kim didn’t laugh.

“You heard?” Harry asked, turning to her.

“All of it.” Kim shook her head, eyes far off as she attempted to understand it all.

“Well, then I suppose this is supposed to go to you,” Hermione said, handing over the book. “Does it mean something to you?”

“No…” She took it in hand, feeling it’s oldness against the pads of her fingers. “Not yet anyway, not that I understand.” She sank into a seat, opening the book with delicate hands. It was entirely in Ancient Runes, making it impossible for Kim to read, but she found the tale of the Deathly Hallows easily enough. At the top of the page there was a hand-drawn symbol of the Hallows. _Maybe there’s another reason Dumbledore left it to both of us. It’s meant to mean something to me, that’s clear, but I obviously can’t read it, he would’ve known that, and he would’ve known that Hermione_ could… _So perhaps there’s something else within that we’re meant to discover together_   _._  

“No, Hermione,” Kim said abruptly, not realizing she was interrupting some other conversation when she said it, “you go ahead and take it.”

“… Are you sure, Kim?”

“I’m sure. I’m also sure you were the one meant to have it anyway.”

“What makes you say that…” Hermione said, taking the tomb gingerly back into her hands.

“Because I can’t read it. Translate it, as I’m sure you’ll want to anyway, and let me know what you find.”

“Right,” Hermione said with a sheepish smile. “I will.”

Perhaps it was a foolish hope, but it was one so golden and comforting she couldn’t help but let it envelop her; the hope that against all odds, Dumbledore might’ve found the answer to Harry’s inevitable death in his last days. Had he done so, he wouldn’t have been able to speak with Kim. She had already been taken to the Ministry for questioning. So, maybe he found a way to deliver the message to her from the grave. The idea left her feeling oddly warmer, somehow.

* * *

“So…” Kim muttered to Harry, “Cousin Barney then, right?” A red-headed boy with freckles and blue eyes looked over at her.

“Yeah,” he said, unenthused. This was Harry’s disguise for the wedding, procured from a local muggle boy, but to be introduced as one of the Weasley’s many cousins. Kim was fortunate to not have the same notoriety as Harry, so while she wasn’t supposed to be there either, the only people who might recognize her were ministry officials, none of which would be at the wedding, or Order of the Phoenix members, all of whom already knew of Kim’s survival. She, Harry, Ron, Fred, and George were all standing outside the great white marquee in the yard, sun beating down on them harshly. Kim wasn’t really supposed to be there, she wasn’t an usher formally, but she hadn’t had a moment’s peace to talk to Harry, and she likely wouldn’t get it again tonight.

“So, did you have any ideas about Dumbledore’s gifts?” she asked him the question that had been on her mind since the day before.

“You mean about what they’re for? No…” He fiddled with the piece of parchment that had the seating plans on it. All of them had a copy and were awaiting the guests to arrive so they could help them to their places. Kim, unlike some of the other girls, was already dressed. Fred had surprised her that morning with a light blue dress with a revealing bodice that squeezed her tightly. It had no straps so she was prone to yanking on it to keep it upright. Still, it looked good on her, and she was thankful for not having to borrow one from Ginny, who undoubtable only had dresses a size too small for Kim, rail thin as she was. The only other dress Kim owned was black, and there was something a little tasteless about wearing black to a wedding, she figured.

“But,” Harry said, unfamiliar features lightening a little, “I did find something. The snitch is definitely significant, other than just as a symbol.”

“How?”

“It has a message. ‘I open at the close.’”

“How did you figure it out?”

“Snitches have flesh memories, like we said yesterday,” he explained. “But I didn’t catch the snitch with my hand.”

Kim got a look of confusion and a bit of revulsion. “What’d you catch it with?”

“I nearly swallowed it.”

“Yeah…” agreed Ron, looking off as if he was replaying the memory in his mind.

“So…” pressed Kim.

“So when I put it to my mouth, a message came across it’s side. It said, ‘I open at the close’.”

“What does that mean?”

“You tell me,” Harry said with a shrug.

_I open at the close…_ She wanted to turn this over in her head, but now wasn’t the time. She was too distracted by the tightness of her dress digging into her under arm and the sight of Fred and George, looking incredibly handsome and at ease, even in the heat. They were of course matching, in very smart, fitted grey dress robes with bright orange bow ties. Fred caught Kim’s gaze and reached up to tug at the collar of is robes uncomfortably.

“When I get married,” he said, making Kim’s stomach flip upside down, “I won’t be bothering with any of this nonsense.”

“Oh, you won’t, will you?” Kim said with a raised brow, smiling peevishly at him.

“No, I won’t,” he said, smiling too. “You can all wear what you like, and I’ll put a full Body-Bind Curse on Mum until it’s all over.”

Kim made a considering face, thinking that second one wasn’t a terrible idea.

“She wasn’t too bad this morning, considering,” said George. “Cried a bit about Percy not being here, but who wants him? Oh blimey, brace yourselves; here they come, look.” And sure enough there were guests, all dressed in their best, making their way toward the marquee.

“Do you want some help?” Kim asked the boys, though she was sure there was some purposeful custom to the boys ushering in the guests, not the girls.

“Sure, you can look off my chart,” Fred said. “But fair warning, if you see a woman who looks too old to exist, wearing something absurd, stay clear.”

“That’s our Auntie Muriel,” George agreed. “She won’t much like your dress.”

“Why, what’s wrong with it?” she said nervously, looking down at her chest.

“Nothing, you look fantastic,” George said calmly.

“That’s what she won’t like about it,” explained Fred. Kim scowled at them both but the first guests were approaching, so they were distracted by their task of escorting them away. They disappeared before Kim got a proper chance to look at their chart, not that she could memorize it and truly be helpful anyway.

She smiled awkwardly at the guests, trying her very hardest to stand in such a way that none of them would talk to her and rather go to Harry or Ron. After a few minutes of periodic guests filing up, Kim’s eyes landed on a blond girl with a flouncing yellow dress and a sunflower in her hair.

“Luna!” Kim called, moving to stand beside Harry so she could be seen by her friend and waving. Luna caught sight of her and froze. Kim frowned a moment, not understanding her reaction. She’d become so pale Kim was frightened she might be about to pass out.

“Kim, you’re dead,” Harry growled at her, and immediately Kim grew pale as well.

“Shit… I didn’t- I forgot… I didn’t know Luna would be here!”

Luna approached like one might approach a grave stone. Kim swallowed hard, unprepared to have this conversation yet again.

“Luna, I’m so sorry, I forgot… the whole bit about… me being dead,” Kim tried to say.

Luna’s shocked expression was fading now and a small smile turned up the edges of her lips. Her eyes grew warm. “This is… a _very_ pleasant surprise.” She hugged Kim, tight and warm, before releasing her and looking her once over. “I must say, you look stunning for a dead girl.”

Kim laughed. “Thanks. B-but, Luna. Um… well, it’s a secret. That I’m _not_ dead. Things could be… really bad if word got out, so… just don’t mention that I’m the girl from the papers who died a few weeks ago,” she said with a nervous laugh.

“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t. I never discuss things that the Daily Prophet publishes anyway. It’s all pixy dust.”

Kim nodded agreeably and then realized Harry hadn’t said anything yet because he didn’t _look_ like Harry.

“Oh, sorry,” she said, “Luna, this is actually Harry!”

“I know,” she said with her dazed sort of smile, waving at Harry.

“Er- call me Barney,” Harry said, flummoxed. “How’d you know?”

 “Oh, just your expression.”

Kim looked behind her to try and find Fred and George again, but only spotted George. He was helping a group of older women to their seats. She left Harry and Luna to talk and headed over to him. Halfway there she caught sight of Fred. _He_ was helping a gaggle of ladies that could only be Fleur’s relatives because they were obviously part veela. She couldn’t hear what he was saying to them as he made an overly flourished show of their seats, but they all giggled flirtatiously in response. Kim scowled.

“What is Fred doing?” she said, crossing her arms. She’d seen, without looking away from Fred, George rounding a row of seats beside her.

He looked at Kim’s scowl and then followed her gaze.

“Oh- uh… well, he’s…”

As George floundered for an excuse for his brother, Fred wiggled his brows at a particularly well-endowed girl who batted his arm and covered her mouth to hide her laughter. George sighed, realizing that any defense he might make was futile.

“Whatever,” she said harshly, grabbing George’s forearm and whirling around, walking briskly back to the que of people awaiting a seating directive.

“Uncle George!” said George

“Nephew George!” replied an identically red-haired man in thick olive dress robes with a portly round belly. George and his Uncle clapped hands tightly and hugged.

“This is Kim, a friend from school,” George said, gesturing towards Kim.

“Please to meet you, Kim!” Uncle George bellowed quite overwhelmingly.

“Come on, we’ll show you your seat,” George said, bobbing his head into the Marquee. Kim scurried along beside George, not wanting to be left alone with the influx of relatives.

“So Kim, what brings you to a Weasley wedding?” asked Uncle George.

“Oh, well…” she wasn’t sure what to say. _I was invited so I came?_ What more was there to say? Evidently, she had taken too long to respond, however.

“Ah,” Uncle George said, long and drawn out, as if he’d just caught on to something.

“Here you are,” George said, pointing to Uncle George’s seat. He began to sidle towards his spot but he was still looking at Kim slyly.

“You must be Georgie’s date!” Uncle George said, laughter in his tone.

“Oh, uh n—”

“Is that your betrothed, George?” asked an old woman to whom Ron had been speaking, and looking rather put out about it. She was very frail, with sags of skin so thin and draping she looked, combined with her pink lipstick, like a dolled up, pale bloodhound. She wore a ludicrous hat as bright pink as her lipstick.

“No, she’s not my—” George started to say, but the old woman interrupted.

“She’s _not_! But I saw you two _kissing_ by the bushes earlier! That’s right, I’ve been here for some time, I was just in the house, showing the French girl how to properly wear my tiara! And what do I see out my window, but you two!”

Kim’s cheeks were already on fire and now her tongue was tied too.

George looked bewildered for a moment and stammered, but then said, _“_ That wasn’t _me,_ it was Fred—”

“She’s seeing you _and_ your brother? Preposterous! I won’t have such nefarious—”

“N-No!” George tried to say over her.

“Not in my family, you listen here young lady,” the woman said, pointing a clawed finger at Kim. “Witches of a true breed should- well, you’re not pure blood, are you? No, I can tell by the way you carry yourself, _and_ then there’s that dress—”

“Murial, for Merlin’s sake, give the girl a rest!” bellowed Uncle George in his boisterous manor. Kim felt like she was so small she could fit in a pocket, but the heat in her cheeks was starting to boil her blood. But this was Fred’s _family_. She had to hold her tongue, even if she had to chew on it to do so.

“Well, it’s true, it’s not appropriate for anything short of a harlot! But anyway, George, how are you,” Murial said, swiveling her bloodshot gaze at George, Kim’s George, not Uncle George. Kim’s head was whirling she was so overwhelmed.

“Fine,” George said firmly.

“Are you? Your ears have come in quite lopsided,” she remarked, sounding disappointed and squinting at George.

“Ya’ don’t say,” he said, forcedly light. “That’s good news, here I’d thought I’d _lost_ one completely!” Kim smiled a very uncomfortable smile. “Come on, let’s-” he took Kim’s harm in hand and pulled her away, gesturing toward the entrance to the tent. There was no one left in line to get seated, so when they were halfway up the isle George slowed.

“Sorry about that,” he said, looking truly apologetic.

“It’s all right. Is that the one Fred warned me against?”

“Who’d I warn you against?” Fred said as he appeared on Kim’s other side. For a brief instant she was relieved, and then immediately remembered the veela girls and scowled anew.

“What?” he said, still smiling stupidly. When Kim didn’t falter his smile faded and he looked a bit bewildered. “ _What_?”

“Nothing, Fred.” She turned on her heels and started for the back of the Marquee. She didn’t know why she was headed that way, there was nothing there for her. All she knew was her desire to get away from Fred and the sound of George hissing, “Come on Fred, what’re you doing?” exasperatedly.

“What’re you talking about, I was only…” Fred’s response faded out of earshot. Kim caught sight of Harry at the entrance. She hadn’t recognized him at first from his disguise. He was standing next to Ron who had evidently escaped Aunt Murial. Hermione approached them at the same time that Kim drew near.

“You look great!” Ron said to Hermione, and she did. She was wearing a floaty, lilac dress with matching heels.

“Always the tone of surprise,” said Hermione, though she smiled. “Your Great-Aunt Muriel doesn’t agree, I just met her upstairs while she was giving Fleur the tiara. She said, ‘Oh dear, is this the muggle-born?’ and then , ‘Bad posture and skinny ankles.”

“Don’t take it personally, she’s rude to everyone,” said Ron, glancing at Kim. She was still grimacing and not willing to offer her own anecdote, mostly because she knew she was incapable without being mouthy.

“Talking about Muriel?” inquired George, reemerging from the marquee with Fred. Kim didn’t look at either them for longer than a brief second. “Yeah, she’s just told me my ears are lopsided. Old bat. I wish old Uncle Bilius was still with us, though; he was a right laugh at weddings.”

“Wasn’t he the one who saw a Grim and died twenty-four hours later?” asked Hermione.

“Well, yeah, he went a bit odd toward the end,” conceded George.

“Seeing death omens will do that to you,” Kim said harshly, staring at nothing.

“But before he went loopy he was the life and soul of the party,” said Fred, as if he hadn’t heard her. Kim’s grimace only grew.

“He used to down an entire bottle of firewhisky,” Fred continued excitedly, “then run onto the dance floor, hoist up his robes to his knees, and start pulling bunches of flowers out of his arse!”

“Yes, he sounds a real charmer,” said Hermione, while Harry roared with laughter. Kim didn’t find it funny, though part of her thought she ought to.

“Never married, for some reason,” said Ron.

“You amaze me,” said Hermione.

Kim didn’t remember dazing off during the conversation. She was thinking about veela and how much she hated pretending to like people she’d only just met and would probably never see again.

“I think it’s time to get in our seats,” George said, peering toward the house. Kim followed the twins into the Marquee and to the front row.

“Time to sit down,” Fred told Harry as they passed him, “or we’re going to get run over by the bride.”

 


End file.
